Devil May Cry: Genesis
by Damon Black
Summary: Before DMC3, there was a young boy who fought as a mercenary and devil hunter. Follow the events of Dante as he lives and works in a city ruled by gangs, crime families, and demons.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I always wondered what Dante's life was like between when his mother died and DMC 3, so I made this. I'm not plannin' on makin' this very long, but I'm not really sure. Anyway, tell me what ya think!

Disclaimer: Devil May Cry is owned by Capcom.

**Devil May Cry: Genesis**

**Chapter 1**

"Their up there, huh?"

"They always are, causin' all sorts o' hell! Jus' last week, they were playin' that god-awful music o' theirs fer all damn day!"

"Ever thought about movin' away?"

The old man pointed a finger at his hired help. "Don't give me no sass, boy! It ain't only me they're scarin'. Th' entire neighborhood's bein' infected by 'em! We were doin' fine until those hooligans showed up and began floodin' our streets with drugs an' guns an' whatnot! Back in my day, I use-"

"Easy their, pops. I don't remember askin' for your life story."

"What'd I say about yer sass, boy?!" The old man was almost fuming, but the boy hardly cared. "I tried th' cops, but they don't give a shit about what happens here! Two days ago some poor girl next door t' me was cracked outta her mind an' slit her wrists because she thought there were bugs unda her skin! No offense, kid, but hirin' you shows jus' how low I'm willin' t' go."

The boy shifted the weight of the sword that rested on his shoulders. He drained the last of his strawberry soda and tossed the empty can into a nearby trashcan.

"How many are we talkin' 'bout here?"

The old man calmed down a bit. "Not too sure, never really saw myself but I say no less than five. Ten at th' most."

"Five to ten, eh?" The boy smirked. "Too simple."

"Now don't get yer head filled with all that hero nonsense, boy. That'll getcha killed."

"Whatever, just make sure you have my money ready."

The old man watched as the youngster began walking toward the apartment building.

"I don't like this, not one bit." The old man spat on the ground. "Gettin' kids to fight my fights. But they say yer th' best kid. Best o' luck t' ya."

"Hurry up over there, man! The boss wants us to get this shit out on the streets tonight!"

"Shut it, Stubs!" One of the gangsters bellowed from the kitchen. "We're getting' it ready!"

Another man in cheap shades stuck his head from the bedroom, a smile plastered on his face. "Just got a call from the boss! Said that the cops have been paid off. That means smooth sailing from here on out, boys."

A man dressed in a sweat-stained tank top was stuffing white powder into plastic bags. "I can't believe this! I mean, first we were just some thugs last week, now we're in the Benzetti family! We've got it made, man!"

"Yeah, just careful how you act." A punk with died green hair called Stubs warned. "The Benzettis ain't known for their kindness."

"No kiddin'." The sunglasses wearing man added. "Especially that daughter, Adriana. Bitch is psycho. Sadist in training, ya know?"

"Just keep yer opinions t' yourself!" The oldest of the five was dressed in a leisure suit worth far more than the wardrobes of the other four combined. "Mr. Benzetti would collect your fuckin' tongues if he heard you say that shit around him!"

"Sorry, Paulie." Stubs shrunk back along with the others. "Won't happen again."

"Damn right it won't!" Paulie straightened his blazer. "And that's _Mr_. Paulie t' you!"

"Right, right, sorry." Stubs reiterated.

"All set, Mr. Paulie." The tank top wearing man and a man with greased hair emerged from the kitchen with boxes.

"'Bout funkin' time! You punks are the slowest-"

A knock came from the door that caused the men to instantly reach for their guns.

"We expectin' anyone?" The sunglasses man asked.

"Don't be stupid." Paulie hissed. "Go check it out."

The man crept towards the door and peeped through the eye hole.

"Just some punk kid."

Everyone in the room relaxed. A few put their guns away.

"Tell 'em ta fuck off." Paulie kept his Berretta in his hand, but let it dangle by his side.

The man in shades nodded and opened the door a crack. "Fuck off, kid before I blow yer-"

The rotten wood hit the man in the face, the security chain snapped off. The gangster fell to the ground clutching his bleeding face.

The other four men jumped at the sound of their front door being kicked in and their fellow gangster screaming and cussing about his nose being broken. Paulie snapped his gun to the door frame and squeezed off a few rounds.

"What the…the hell's gonin' on!" Stubs shouted, swinging the hunting shotgun around.

Before anyone could answer, a figure shot into the room straight towards Stubs. The man squawked and fired. A filthy recliner exploded as buckshot tore through it. His own fear fouled up his aim. A fist connected with his stomach the emptied his lungs. Stubs crumpled forward and clutched his stomach, the shotgun clattered on the wooden floor. A foot came down over his head and blackness overcame him.

Gunshots filled the room as Paulie and the remaining two men tried to bring down their assailant. The figure bounded over a couch that absorbed the shots. The three gangsters emptied their weapons, hoping that one found its target.

"Come on out, you fucker!" Paulie bellowed. "Unless yer already dead!"

He thumbed the lever that dropped his empty clip from his gun and retrieved a fresh one from his pocket. The man with greased hair began fumbling with his revolver as he attempted to reload it one round at a time. The tank-top clad man slapped in a clip in his Glock.

"Sonuvabitch! Who is that-"

The man with greased hair suddenly had a foot planted in his face. Teeth went flying.

Paulie hesitated. Somehow the mystery attacker had flipped over the couch and landed right on his underling's face from half-way across the room.

The figure dashed to the man in the tank top that had finished reloading and took aim. A blinding flash of metal arced out. The man's arm broke as his gun was forcible removed from his grasp. He fell to his knees, howling in pain.

Paulie did not know what was more astounding. The rather large blade the figure wielded or the Glock that was partially sliced in half that was still caught on the sword's edge.

The figure, a young boy, flicked his wrist. The gun clattered to the ground.

Paulie snapped out of his daze. He raised his gun and yelled at the top of his lungs.

His yell died as the sword was suddenly inches from his face.

"I just took down four of your guys." A cocky voice came from the boy. "What makes you think you have a chance?"

Paulie blinked, captivated by the sheer mass of the blade the boy held and how he managed to point it at him with only one hand without the slightest look of fatigue.

"Hello? Anybody home?" The boy waved a hand in front of Paulie's face. "You go dumb on me or sumthin'?"

The mobster finally took notice of the boy. "Who…who do you think yer fuckin' with? Huh? Do you know who I am? Do you know who I work for?!"

"No, but I have a feeling your gonna tell me anyway."

"The name's Paulie. I work for the _Benzetti_ family!"

"The Benzetti family?" The boy looked confused. "Never heard of 'em."

"Don't act stupid, punk!" A vein popped on Paulie's forehead. "The Benzetti's run this city, ya hear me! And I'm one of their lieutenants! You kill me and you'll have a shit storm rain down on ya!"

"Really?" The boy began examining his nails, seemingly bored with the conversation. "A shit storm? Never saw one of those. Better buy an umbrella when I go home."

Paulie was furious beyond words. A mere snot-nosed brat was making a fool out of him. He remembered the gun in his hand.

A bullet ripped into the boy's chest.

"Ha! Yer all talk, kid! No one disrespects me or the Benzettis and gets…away…with…"

Paulie trailed off in a daze. The kid did not fall or even flinch when he shot him.

The boy toyed with the new hole in his black shirt. "Do you know how much this cost me?"

Paulie trembled. This was not possible. His brain sent a signal to his hand to fire again. His hand refused the order.

With the speed of a cobra, the boy snatched the gun out of Paulie's grasp.

He turned the weapon over, examining it. "Beretta, huh? Looks brand new. Bet it's worth sumthin'. Enough to replace my shirt anyway."

The boy switched the safety on and thrust the gun into his belt.

"Now I got a message for ya. Move. Tonight. And don't you or any of your little buddies come back, or I'll turn you into a shish-ka-bob, got it?"

Paulie nodded, still dumbstruck by the boy's apparent immortality.

"And people say gangsters can't be reasoned with."

-----

"Jesus boy, whadya _do_ t' those bastards?" The old man's eyes were wild with disbelief. "Not that I'm complainin' or nothin', it just looks like those low-lives got into a fight with a gorilla or sumthin'!"

"Don't worry about it." The boy casually walked out the building with his sword resting on his shoulders. The old man kept pace as he walked away.

"Goddamn! I thought my friend was pullin' my leg when he mentioned ya. Said you never fail, never lose t' nobody. Thought it was all hoppla and all, but nosirre, you the real deal!"

"Save your hero worship for somebody else." The boy snorted. "Where's my money?"

"Right, right, of course." The old man held out a wad of bills. "Six hundred dollars, as we agreed."

The boy snatched up the cash and shoved it into his pocket. "See ya around, pops."

"Wait one moment there, son, I got a question for ya. Jus' how old _are_ you?"

The boy stopped, turned around, and looked at the sky thinking. "Today…I turned fifteen."

-----

The boy trudged through the rain washed alley. The smell of rotting garbage and raw sewage filled his nostrils. Nighttime had fallen and his stomach grumbled, letting him know that he had missed dinner. He picked up his pace, hoping to reach his home soon.

"Damn pawnbroker." The boy cursed under his breath. "Lousy two hundred bucks for the gun. That thing was worth over five hundred easy. Last time I sell anything to that tub of lard."

He ran his hands of his new black shirt. He muttered how it was not fair since he just broke the old one in. He had tossed the bullet-hole one away when he emerged from the clothing store.

A faint whisper caught his ear. The boy stopped and looked around. Aside from a stray dog sniffing at an overturned garbage can, he was alone.

He brushed off the noise and moved on.

He had gotten ten more feet when he heard the whispers again, only louder. The hair on the back of his neck stood to attention. He could feel something near, something dark.

He trained his ears and could make out what each voice was saying.

"That's him, the spawn of the traitor!"

"We've found him!"

"He's still a child! He's all ours!"

"Kill him! Kill him now!"

"Kill! Kill!"

A toothy, vicious smile spread on the boy's face. Today was just getting better and better.

He brought his sword down from his shoulders and let the tip touch the ground.

"I can hear ya!" He called out. "Why don'tcha show your ugly mugs? Or are ya afraid of a kid with a sword?"

Things moved in the shadows, taking shape from nothingness. Beings with thin limbs and bulbous heads crawled along the walls like gravity held no power over them. They clutched jagged knives in their tiny three-fingered hands.

"Us? Fear you?" One demon hissed. "We shall kill you slowly for that."

"Once we bathe in your blood, we shall claim the power of the traitor's bloodline!"

The boy barked a laugh. "Bathe in blood, huh? Doesn't sound too hygienic. But if you want it so bad…"

A demon leaped from the walls and aimed itself right at the boy.

The boy spun around. His sword struck the demon, the arm that held its knife flew through the air.

The demon floundered on the ground, screeching in pain. Dante brought his foot down and mashed its head like a ripe tomato.

"That's one." The boy joked.

The other demons attacked as one, hoping that one of them would be able to get the boy before he struck again.

Like a grasshopper, the boy shot into the air as the demons clumsily rammed into one another.

"Man are you guys lame!" The boy laughed. "And you're supposed to kill _me_? Please, you losers look like you'd have a hard time finding your own asses."

The demons scrambled out of their pile and hissed at the boy. A few took to the air while others ran along the walls.

The boy stood his ground and lashed out with his sword. Three demons fell in pieces.

He swung his sword again in furious motions that caused demons to rain like confetti. Sparks flew from the walls as the oversized weapon scraped against it, leaving deep cuts.

One demon collided with the boy and prepared to plunge his knife into his heart.

A hand grasped the demon's arm and snapped it like a twig. The pain lasted only as long as it took the boy to shove the demon headfirst into the wall. Blood splattered the brick structure.

The remaining demons began to shrink away. Their hisses had begun to sound like cries.

"Strong…he's too strong!" One yelped.

"It ain't just that." The boy pointed the horde. "You guys are wimps. I bet you have to team up to win."

"You may have beaten us boy, but know this! We shall…"

The demon was cut off as the boy's sword suddenly had it pinned to the wall.

"Sorry." The boy shrugged. "Butterfingers."

The demons moved around, uncertain what to do next.

"Looks like I don't have my sword right now." He cracked his knuckles. "Maybe I'll be easier to beat. Wanna find out?"

The shadows enveloped the still living demons, the ones that had met their end incinerated until nothing was left. The boy was alone again.

"Punks." The boy spat and snapped his fingers.

The sword trembled until it loosened itself from the wall and spun back to its master's hand.

"Gangsters and demons in one night. Don't I feel special."

A growl sounded in the boy's stomach.

"Alright, already!" He said. "I heard ya the first time, I'm going!"

He slung the sword back onto his shoulders and continued his trek home.

-----

"Let me see if I have this straight. You're telling me, that you and your new crew got beaten up by a kid with a sword?"

Paulie had to muster everything to not tremble in the presence of the Don. "I know it sounds hard t' believe, boss, but it's the truth! The boys, they'll back me up when they get out of the hospital."

"How odd that those four individuals are all in intensive care while you don't have a mark on your whole body."

Paulie's heart skipped a beat. "B..boss, you know me. I've worked for you for ten years now, I'm not dumb enough t' betray you! I know what that leads t'!"

"And yet, even you must admit, the evidence does not look kindly on you."

"Look, I know I screwed up boss, but I'll make it up t' you. I'll find that kid and put him six feet under! All I need are some guys, not flunkies but real professionals! Arm ourselves t' the teeth and hunt down that little S.O.B like the dog he is!"

"You want me to give you my top men and biggest guns to hunt down a child?"

"If all it took was one bullet, he would have been dead by now! I should know, I plugged him, right here!" Paulie pointed to his heart. "But he was still standing, no one lives after a shot like that, no one!"

The Don gave a quick glance to a young girl with strawberry blonde hair that sat nearby. She had worn a small smile the entire time, but once she heard about the shot that should have killed, her smile grew.

"I see." The Don folded his hands over his large belly. "Perhaps it is best that we faced this troublemaker with appropriate force, as you suggested. It would be unwise to let such an act go unpunished."

"You got it boss!" Paulie felt the fear drain away, replaced with renewed vigor. "Just say the word, and I'll-"

A shot rang out. Paulie dropped to his knees with blood staining his shirt.

"However, I can not overlook your failure." The Don pointed the gun at Paulie's face.

"B…boss! Wait, p…please! Gimme a chance, that's all I-"

A second shot. A bullet went into Paulie's eye, but did not come out his head.

His body slumped to the ground. Two men in black suits and sunglasses dragged the body away. A maid began mopping up the blood.

The Don returned the snub-nosed pistol to the blazer of his custom-tailored Italian suit. "Interrogate the men in the hospital, then kill them too before the police get a hold of them. Make it look like an accident."

Three men nodded and left the room.

"Micheal." The Don called.

A man with slick-black hair and round glasses stepped forward. "Yes, sir?"

"Go work your magic and find out whatever you can about this mystery kid with a sword. Check our sources with the police, FBI, ATF, everyone."

"At once." The man bowed respectively and left.

"The rest of you, leave us. I wish to speak with my daughter. Alone."

The remaining men and the maid repeated Mikey's bow and departed.

The Don stood in front of his wet bar.

"A boy with a sword that can send four armed, grown men to the hospital with broken bones and can withstand a bullet to the heart." The Don plopped four ice cubes into his glass. "Sounds like an interesting fellow."

"I know, daddy." Adriana stood up and smoothed her French-designed dress. "I'll bet he'll be fun to play with."

"Perhaps." He finished pouring his whiskey and returned to his large office chair. "I doubt you'll be able to have anytime with him. This pest needs to be stomped out quickly before others try to rally behind him and attack us."

Adriana made a fake pout. "Oh, come on, daddy. It's been a while since I took care of things for you."

"I can't send my only child to do her father's work all the time." The Don smiled at his daughter and took a swig. "Tell you what, I'll make you a deal. If this boy survives my men, he's all yours."

A giggle escaped from her lips. "You promise?"

The Don nodded.

The young girl laughed. The people she had killed recently were pathetic, big-mouthed idiots that cried and whimpered for mercy when she had them where she wanted them. All her fun had been sucked out of it.

Adriana left her father's office, secretly hoping the mystery boy did live, at least until she got her hands on him.

-----

The neon sign of the _Devil's Paradise_ flickered slightly and bathed the surrounding buildings in a crimson and purple glow. Swarms of small insects clouded around the sign, annoying the strip club's entering customers. The club's bouncers, two men with large builds, guarded the entrance with black shirts, crossed arms, and glares. They had already tossed out two trouble makers and were ready for more.

It looked like their third victim was already in sight. A boy in a black shirt carrying a large sword sauntered to the front door.

One of the men stuck his hand out. "Beat it, kid. This ain't a place fer minors."

The boy looked the man square in the eye when he replied. "Move it, tank, I live here."

"Get real, kid." The man snarled. "And watch yer damn-"

"Miss Valentine wants to speak with you." The second bouncer interrupted. "She's by the bar last time I checked."

The boy let out a huff and pushed his way past the two.

"What the…" The first bounce watched the boy open the doors to let the pounding club music out before being silenced again when the doors closed. "What're doin', man? Why'd you let that kid in?"

"You heard him, Jake." The second bouncer said. "He lives here."

"What're you…" Jake trailed off again. "You mean…_that's_ Valentine's special friend?"

"Yep."

"Yer shittin' me! The boss is doin' a kid?"

"It ain't like that, dumbass. And keep your mouth shut about it."

-----

With his ears ringing with heavy-beat music and his nose overwhelmed by cigarettes and booze, the boy pushed his way through the crowd of overly excited men and scantily-clad women. Many of the patrons looked surprised and a little embarrassed when they say the pre-teen. The women, on the other hand, greeted him like he was family.

He finally got through the mass of bodies and found his landlady sitting at the bar, just as the bouncer said.

"Welcome back, sweetie." The woman cooed. "How was your day?"

She crossed her legs in a suggestive manner. Her black business dress hugged at her thighs and a cigarette dangled from her fingers.

"I got shot today, need I say more?"

A smile crossed her lips and she patted the stool next to her. "Have a seat, hun."

He plopped down on the seat and propped his sword on the bar. He slammed a wad of bills in front of Valentine.

"There, this month's _and_ last month's rent." He snarled. "So you can quit naggin' me about it."

The mature woman merely used her fingers to slide the money in front of her, but kept her eyes on the boy.

"That's good." She softly replied. "But next month's rent is due in a few days you know."

"Yeah, yeah." The boy folded his arms on the bar and laid his head down. "I'm workin' on it."

A gurgle overcame the music and loud conversations in the bar.

Valentine sighed. "I suppose you haven't eaten yet."

"Sorta."

In a few minutes, the boy was wolfing down a ham sandwich. Valentine watched with amusement.

"You can't keep being late on meals, you know." She took a drag from her cigarette. "You're a growing boy."

The boy grunted, but did not stop eating.

"Hey there, kid!" A curly-haired blonde woman in a thong suddenly hugged the boy from behind. "We've been wondering where you've been!"

The boy almost choked on his sandwich. The girl purposely tightened her hold, pressing her large chest into his back.

Why did all the girls that worked at Valentine's always tease him?

"We were wonderin' if you got lost." Another woman in white lingerie leaned on the bar. "But you found your way back, like a nice kitty."

"Kitty?" The woman latched onto the boy asked. "I think he's more of a puppy dog."

"What is it with you and dogs, Fifi?" The woman in white tossed her brunette hair. "He's a kitty. He's a loner, always lands on his feet, and has a temper like an alley cat."

"He's a puppy dog, Sapphire." Fifi rubbed her cheek on the back of the boy's head. "He's loyal, whimpers when he's left alone, and has the cutest little nose!"

"I do not whimper!" The boy tried to sound angry, but flustered was what came out. Having a half-naked woman latched onto one's back tended to do that to a boy in puberty.

"Aw, he's upset." Fifi cooed. "Aren't we givin' ya enough attention?"

The boy stewed in frustration as the two women laughed and snuggled him.

-----

With a creak, the boy opened the door that lead to his room upstairs. He trotted inside the sparsely decorated room, let his sword slip from his grasp, then spun and fell onto his bed. He bounced twice before he settled in.

"Damn, what a busy day." He thought as he watched the ceiling fan go round and round. "Bet there'll be more jobs when I met Kyle tomorrow."

He felt the sweet embrace of sleep begin to overcome him when a knock came from his door.

With a growl, he hopped out of his bed and tore open his door.

"The hell you-"

The boy stopped as a chocolate-frosted cake was thrust into his face.

"Didja really think we'd forget?" Fifi sang. She had changed her attire to a T-shirt and jeans.

"Hittin' the big one five." Sapphire said, wearing a sweater. "Seems like our little boy's growin' up way too fast."

A swarm of girls entered his room, giving him hugs and kisses. They began setting up streamers and decorations. Party music began playing on a stereo someone brought up. Many of the girls began dancing. The boy suddenly found himself in the center of the gaggle of females, being traded off to different dance partners at random. The boy was somewhat indigent about the whole affair. Sure, being passed around by a bunch of women might have made any male's day, but he knew these ladies well, they loved to tease him, not very healthy for a boy his age.

"Alright girls, settle down."

Valentine called and the women answered by brining their full attention to her. The older woman stood in front of the boy, who at the moment was smooshed into the chest of one of the strippers.

"Let him go, Katie."

"I was just wishing him a happy birthday!" She giggled and released her captive.

The boy gasped for air and stumbled back. All of the women erupted in laughter.

"Now then," Valentine started. "It's been almost a year since you and I first met. We've given you a home and you've made yourself apart of this family. So, here's a little something from all of us."

A gift-wrapped box was put in his hands. The boy furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Go on, open it!" One of the women squealed.

"Jesus." The boy thought as he began to unwrap it. "And I'm the kid here. I mean, they're how old again?"

The torn wrapping paper fluttered to the ground. The boy took off the top and froze as he gazed into its contents.

"Custom tailored." Valentine sported a sly grin. "Hope you don't mind, but I had one of the girls snoop through your clothes. Find your size and everything."

He reached in and retrieved something in red leather. The clothing article unfurled into a long coat.

"You said you liked red. Your white hair might make you stand out, but I always believed the clothes make the person."

"Well, whadya think?" Fifi gleamed.

He slipped on the red leather coat and examined himself in front of the full length mirror.

"Oh, I like it." The boy nodded in satisfaction. "I like it a lot!"

He turned to the smiling women who gathered around him, applauding him for his new look.

"Happy Birthday, Dante!" They all said.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Working on three separate fics can be time consuming, but thanks to winter break, I had the time. Glad to see the positive reviews, thanks to all of you for leaving your two cents.

Disclaimer: Devil May Cry is owned by Capcom.

**Devil May Cry: Genesis**

**Chapter 2**

"I've said it before and I'll say it again. Dante, are you frickin' insane?!"

The youth shrugged. "People have been askin' me that a lot lately."

Kyle had many names for his job. Agent, informant, middleman, but he could call himself whatever he wanted as long as he did his job. The unshaven man looked too young to be in his line of work, but being already in his thirties, he took it with pride. He had gotten jobs and information for many bounty hunters, mercs, and assassins that worked in the city. He had seen everyone of every way of life, but even he had to admit, his newest business partner was definitely something odd.

"I heard that you butted heads with some punks that were with the Benzetti family." The man strummed his fingers on his desk in an agitated manner. "In all my years in this job, I have never seen anyone dumb enough to take on the Benzettis."

"Whatever." Dante rocked on his chair. "It's not like I've tangled with mobsters before."

"These 'mobsters' are not your run-of-the-mill criminals." Kyle pressed. "There's a reason why they're considered the most powerful family in the city."

Kyle retrieved a bottle of bourbon from his desk and took a swig. "They've been here since the prohibition era, pumped booze into the city until they figured out that running drugs can make just as much money. Family motto is 'share the wealth', if you know what I mean. Give enough cash to certain people and suddenly the cops and government officials have a sudden 'disinterest' in ya."

Another swig of alcohol and the man continued. "Now they have half of city hall in their pocket. Got a team of top-dollar lawyers with them as well, real high quality sleaze artists. Every time they go to court, they get off on a technicality or some other loop-hole b.s. Not to mention that they have nearly anyone with so much as a little talent with guns workin' for 'em."

Dante yawned. "So what? It's not like they got anyone who could beat _me_."

Kyle shook his head in disgust. The boy was too ignorant and too cocky for this line of work. Unfortunately that cockiness was well earned. To date, no one in Kyle's little black book was even close to powerful as Dante.

"I would suggest you lay low, but seeing as you hardly listen to me on stuff like that, I got something else to say."

The older man lit a cigarette. "Since the Benzettis have all that power, they've been not as popular with the other organizations 'round here. All of 'em would like nothin' more than to see the Benzettis get what's comin' to 'em. So I humbly suggest that you get a friendship started with some of 'em."

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend, huh?" Dante cocked an eyebrow.

"Now yer gettin' it." Kyle smiled. "The Chinese and Russians are your best bet."

"Let me guess. You've got a way for me to win their undying affection?"

"More or less." Kyle slid Dante a folder. "Got a job from the Chinese boss himself, Mr. Hong."

Dante opened the folder. A few pictures of a man and a warehouse were its contents.

"That is Joseph McMillan. Gun runner. Used to be Mr. Hong's main supplier until a few weeks ago when he decided to work for the Cubans."

Dante tossed the folder back onto the desk.

"I ain't a hitman, Kyle. I thought I told you that."

Kyle put up a hand as a gesture for Dante to wait until he was finished. "Mr. Hong doesn't want a hit. He wants you to go in and make Joe's dealings with the Cubans as unprofitable as you can."

"So," Dante smirked, "I go in and mess up the wallpaper, is that right?"

"Like only you can, Dante." Kyle returned the smirk.

-----

"How many?!" Joseph McMillan yelled. "How many are there?!"

"I don't know." One of his 'hired help' replied nervously. "I saw at least one."

"At least?!" Joseph was almost popping a blood vessel. "It'd take an army to storm this place."

"I'm just tellin' ya what I saw!" The guard kept his AK-47 at the ready. "And I barely got a look at the guy, he-"

Sporadic gunfire came from the opposite end of the warehouse. Suddenly, a man was thrown into the air and came crashing down on a stack of crates.

"Holy…" The guard was bewildered. "Didja see that?"

"How could I miss it?" McMillan responded.

The night had gone to hell for Joseph. The routine sale was ruined from the moment it started. First the men stationed outside were hit while the deal was being done, then the battle spread into the warehouse itself. The Cubans bailed the second they heard gunshots. They did not even take their purchased merchandise.

"I shoulda stuck with Hong." Joseph cursed under his breath. "This sorta shit never happened when we-"

Suddenly, a blur of red shot out and rammed the guard that he had been talking to. A flash of steel split his gun in two and the man barrel rolled onto the floor.

Joseph yelped and emptied his gun at the assailant. Fright and surprise made his aim atrocious. He hit the ground, the crates behind the guy, but not one round was even close to his intended target.

Joseph kept squeezing the trigger even though all that came from his gun were empty clicks.

"Nice shootin', Tex."

He realized that he had been aiming at a kid, a kid with silver hair, a red coat, and of all things, a _sword_, a rather large sword, but still.

The kid twirled the blade effortlessly around with his fingers. "You're McMillan, right?"

The man nodded dumbly.

The boy moved in closer.

"Mr. Hong feels rather lonely now that you started playing with your new friends. He wants ya to come back."

He reached out, grabbed Joseph by the tie, and yanked him even closer.

"Get it?"

Joseph nodded rapidly. "Yeah, yeah, I got it."

-----

The Chinese style restaurant was closed for the night when Dante entered. The place was rather posh. A large golden statue of a dragon curled along the wall. Chinese statues were placed everywhere, and the entire room was colored a deep red. A few waiters and waitresses were busy cleaning the place up, and a small army of Chinese henchman loitered around with sneers and frowns permanently adhered to their faces.

Dante took two steps in when a plump hand blocked his path, a hand that belonged to a large, spherical bald man with a scar over his left eye.

"Mr. Hong wants to meet you."

"Ok." Dante answered.

The hand remained.

"What, is he coming here?"

The man nodded at the sword. "No weapons."

Dante shrugged and offered the man his sword, hilt first.

When the man grabbed the handle, Dante stopped supporting its weight. The man almost dropped it and had to use both his hands to manage its weight.

"Don't lose it. It's the only one I got." Dante joked.

A waitress bowed before him.

"This way please." She spoke with an obvious Chinese accent.

She led him to the private dinning room a floor up. It was smaller, wooden, and had a table that could have easily seated about a dozen people. On one end of the table was a man dressed in an expensive black and red business suit with graying hair, moustache, and circular framed sunglasses. Mr. Hong, he presumed. He was flanked by two individuals, possibly his bodyguards. The first was a man with long, braided hair in green and black traditional martial artist clothes. He stood at attention with his hands behind his back and a neutral expression on his face. The other was an attractive woman with her hair in a bun. She was clad in a dark blue business dress and held a small stack of files to her chest. Unlike the male, she had a look of amusement.

"Ah, so you're the famous Dante?" Mr. Hong greeted. "Please, have a seat."

Dante took the place at the other end of the table. The waitress had disappeared, leaving the four alone.

"I must thank you for your work tonight." The crime boss laced his fingers together. "I must say, I am rather impressed. How you managed to defeat McMillan's armed guards without a fatality is rather amazing. It will certainly make negotiating more friendly since there was no loss of life on his end."

"I was surprised that you didn't want blood." Dante confessed. "Don't mob bosses usually kill those that betray them?"

"McMillan is a special case." Hong confessed. "He is the only gun runner in the city with access to military grade hardware."

Dante made a noise of acknowledgement.

"Now, on to other business. The reason I called you in here was to offer you another job, if you're interested."

"What type of job?"

"The…unusual kind." Mr. Hong had to think for a moment before continuing. "Your acquaintance said that you took special interest in jobs dealing with the paranormal."

Dante's mood changed from borderline boredom to genuine interest. He leaned closer in his chair.

"I ain't a 'ghostbuster' if that's what you're askin'."

A sly smile formed on Hong's lips. "It's not ghosts that I have a problem with."

He nodded to the woman on his right. She stepped forward, opened one of the folders, and placed a photograph of an old Victorian style house. The picture was in black and white, but he could see that the house had fallen into abandonment years ago. Only thing that could be holding it together was by sheer will power, if the house had a will.

"I own this particular piece of property, along with every other house in a four block radius of it when the Korean gangs backed off a few years ago. I won't bore you with the details, but some of my men who tried to size up the house to see if it was worth using came back a few men short."

Dante sized up the picture some more. Why did demons like old houses and castles and the like? Why not haunt an arcade or something fun instead of dreary, depressing places?

"They spoke of an odd man, both in dress and behavior. Said to get out of his home." Hong appeared to be somewhat amused by his own story. "My men obviously didn't take too well to the man's accusations. The end result was that out of five men, only three returned."

The mob boss reached for an ancient tea cup in front of him, took a sip, and continued.

"Horror stories are what I got from them. Said the man wasn't human and a bunch of other nonsensical jabbering. Told of how he had sliced one man in half." Hong ran a thumb from the top of his head to his groin to show how he was cut. "The other was taken apart. Used his hands too, no knife, no sword, just bare fingers."

Hong then tilted his head down at a slight angel to look at Dante over his sunglasses. "I take it you're interested?"

Dante let out a huff and said. "What do you think?"

-----

In the picture, the house looked crappy, in real life, the place was a shit hole, peeling paint, dead trees surrounding it, and busted out windows. The only thing missing was the lone wolf howling in the distance.

Dante took a few steps toward the house. Hong's driver did not even get out of the black Oldsmobile. Judging by the amount of religious mini-statues and icons strewn on his dashboard, he was of the superstitious type. Oh well, it was not like the driver would have mattered if he went or not.

With a few more steps, Dante was right in front of the door. A chipped brass knocker hung by a single screw and the door knob looked like it was one door slam away from falling off. The door itself was not closed properly, probably since the fleeing men were not too concerned with shutting the door when they ran. He gave it a nudge. The door opened slowly with a groan.

"Hello? Anyone home?" Dante called playfully. "Pizza delivery."

He laughed at his own joke and walked in.

-----

"I find it hard to believe that what you say is true. That one of his spawn is in this wretched human city."

"Come, come, dear. Have I ever lead you astray?"

"There's always a first. And I find it insulting to deal with a mere half-breed, even if he is supposed to have _his_ blood."

"Be careful, young one. Though you are by birth, a complete being, he still possesses great power. You must not treat him as a lesser. If you do, eternal darkness shall be your future."

"Do not treat me like some simple child! I shall destroy him and you will give what is promised to me!"

"I know of our agreement, Edge, and I have gone to great lengths to ensure your confrontation. All I ask is that you follow through with yours."

"Don't you worry, I shall be…"

"What is it?"

"He is here. I can sense it."

"Well then, I'll leave you boys alone."

The blackened feminine figure collapsed back into the dust that it was formed from.

-----

Dante wandered around the house. Its insides were as decrepit as its outside. The boarded up windows gave off a feeling of confinement. Cob webs were in every nook and cranny and the purple and black stripped wallpaper was either covered with grime, dust, or was simply peeling.

"Man, whatever's in this house sure has bad taste." Dante muttered. "I mean, at least clean the place-"

Dante stopped when he entered the large, empty living room. The remains of Hong's two men were laid out on the dust-covered floor. One of the body's was split open, just like Hong said. He was not just hacked up. There was just a single, straight cut that opened him up like a freshly gutted fish. The other man, a few feet away, was in five separate pieces, two legs, two arms, a body, and a head. Blood pooled around both of them with their organs spilled out on to the floor.

Dante crinkled his nose. He had seen many horrible acts in his life, but he never got used to gore like what he saw.

He felt a chill go through his spine, a chill that would not go away. There was someone else here, someone that was not human.

"All right, come on out!" He pointed his sword in front of him and circled around the room. "I know you're here. Do you want me to tear this place apart?"

A figure emerged from the shadows and stood across the room from Dante. It was a man wearing a charcoal-colored trench coat. His pure black hair seemed to be quite long as it went past his shoulders. How long it was, Dante had no clue since he only could see the man's front. He was tall and thin. His coat and clothes were riddled with straps and buckles, giving the man an armored type look.

"So, this is the child of Sparda?" The man spoke more to himself.

Dante narrowed his eyes. The man talked in a fancy tone, like a stuck up, rich person.

"I take it this is your handy work?" Dante thumbed one of the bodies.

"Indeed." The man was calm, like what he did to the men was not important. "They were quiet rude, so I taught them some manners."

"Dead men learn nothin'." Dante countered.

"Nonetheless they severed their purpose. Their death brought you here."

"Really, all this for me? Sorry to burst your bubble, bud, but I don't swing that way."

Something bothered Dante. How did this freak know that killing Hong's men would get him here? Maybe one of Hong's men was an informant. Or the man had superiors that understood and manipulated the human world. Or the demon was just lucky. Dante did not know, and for the moment, he did not care. First thing was first.

The man held up his left hand that had elongated, pointed nails.

Dante let out a laugh. "Nice nails. Get a manicure? Thought only chicks got those."

"Save your taunts, child." The man hissed. "I am called Edge and I shall be your executioner."

Edge launched himself at Dante. He glided across the floor and was within striking distance of the boy within a heart beat. Edge swung his left arm at Dante. The youth twisted his body out of the way. A single, clean cut formed on the floor that ran up the wall and ended on the ceiling.

Dante swung his sword horizontally, hoping to cleave the demon in half. Edge rolled under the blade than renewed his attack. A second cut raced across the walls, had Dante not leapt over the attack, he would have been a head shorter.

Edge looked up to see his prey sailing upside down over his head. The boy aimed his sword for the top of Edge's head. Using his right hand, the demon knocked the weapon out of Dante's grasp, reached up, and dug his clawed hand into the boy's stomach.

Dante gritted his teeth together to stifle the pain. It would be a cold day in hell before he cried out in agony.

He saw that the demon's hair reached all the way to his back from where he could see.

"Far too easy." Edge looked rather upset for someone who had his opponent where he wanted him. "You gravely disappoint me, child."

The boy smiled with bloodstained teeth. "Then maybe I should start trying."

The boy snapped his fingers. Rebellion vibrated on the floor for a spilt second before flying back into Dante's hand. He whipped the sword around to behead the demon. The blade stopped a few inches from Edge's neck.

"Nice try." The demon said. His other hand, clawed like the left, had intercepted Dante's weapon and held on to it by the tips of his nails.

Dante could not free his weapon. His strength was slowly draining from his body, just like his blood that oozed from Edge's nails that were in his gut up to the second knuckle. Normally such wounds would have healed by now, but only if what caused the wounds were no longer in his body.

"Ambidextrous, huh?" Dante kept his amused look on his face, despite his current circumstance. "Well guess what? So am I!"

Dante struck with his left fist and bashed it into Edge's nose. A satisfying crunch filled Dante's ears. To Edge's credit, he did not cry out in pain. He merely let out a growl that sounded more annoyed than hurt. Nonetheless the strike did its job. Edge dropped Dante back to the ground when he stumbled back.

Dante's strength had stopped leaving his body, but it was not coming back either. Usually a snack and rest did the trick, although it was doubtful he could get either at that moment in time.

"Damn brat!" Edge spat.

Dante had put a lot into his strike, something that would have easily killed a normal person. While Edge was far from dead, he had a hard time keeping his eyes open. It appeared that he had done more damage than he thought. Good, both were handicapped, neither had an advantage.

After cursing under his breath some more, Edge launched himself at the boy. Dante barely noticed the demon's locks had fanned itself out behind him, making it seem like he had a cape of hair. The boy tightened his legs and leapt back when the first clawed hand cleaved the air above him.

Edge continued to attack his opponent, but his eye sight was blurry. It was slowly getting better, but not as quickly as he liked. Unable to properly see Dante, his attacks were sloppy and wild, giving the boy enough opportunity to dodge or parry the attacks with his sword. The walls around them began to crumble as more slashes were carved into it.

"He's weak." The demon thought when he noticed that the boy had started to become slower with his counters. "I have to finish him now!"

With a battle cry, Edge thrust his right hand forward. It clanged against the boy's sword. He took a step forward, lashed out with his left…and slipped.

The momentum Edge had caused him to tumble forward. A fist connected with his cheek that sent him careening through a wall that he did not know he was near. A cloud of dust temporary filled the hole that the demon had created.

Dante whistled and eyed the pool of blood from Hong's men with Edge's streaked footprint.

"Lucky me."

Dante casually walked to the next room where Edge was forcibly placed. There he saw the demon unsteadily push himself off the ground that was littered with broken plaster and wood.

"You alright?" Dante snickered. "Wanna take five?"

The boy bent in his legs and ducked. A smooth cut formed on the wall behind him.

"Guess not."

Edge roared and leapt at Dante.

-----

"Nothing?" The Don scowled. "You, my information expert, have found nothing on this child?"

Michael coughed nervously and pushed up his glasses. "Not quite, what I said was that the government has nothing on him. No social security number, no birth certificate, nothing. To them, he doesn't exist."

The Don leaned back in his chair and strummed his fingers together, taking in what his subordinate said. "So, he's a street orphan than? Interesting. Anything else?"

Michael placed a single sheet of paper on the Don's desk. "According to my sources, he's a mercenary. A rather odd job for someone his age. One of the best, from what I hear. Never fails. Never quits. Doesn't take jobs that require killing. Came into the city almost a year ago. Before that, there's absolutely nothing."

The Don studied the page with the scrutiny of a Liberian. "Do you know where he lives?"

"In a strip club, the _Devil's Paradise_. Owned and operated by one, Miss Tiffany Valentine. 42 years of age. Used to control a small, yet successful prostitution ring. A very efficient operation with strict rules and picky about her clientele. Known to have the 'cleanest' girls in town. Bailed out for 'personal reasons' many years back."

"So the boy lives in a whore house. Quiet the upbringing." He tossed the paper onto his desk. "I'll have some men go in and 'convince' Miss Valentine to hand the boy over."

"I'm afraid that's not a good idea, sir." Michael interjected.

Normally, the Don would not have taken kindly to such words, but Michael was a man he respected, he knew he would not have said it without a very good reason.

"And why is that?" The Don folded his hands over his large stomach.

Michael paused for a moment. He knew his boss would not like the answer he gave.

"Miss Valentine is under the protective services of the 'Black Ice'."

The Don tightened his jaw and looked out his window.

Black Ice was a large group consisting of ex-mafia men, yakuza, triads, assassins, and just about anyone who had grown sick of mob life, but not the underground. They offered protective services to certain individuals from mob organizations. Killing someone under their care incurred their wrath. The Don had the city in the palm of his hand, but Black Inferno was an international power. They had more men, more guns, and the experience of numerous men whose sole occupation was dealing death. Plus the group did not offer protection against the cops or feds, which meant that the police never took any action against them. Why should they? In their eyes, they were a necessary evil. A group that went against the mobs of the world was not worth brining down.

"Is the boy also under their watchful eye?" The Don asked.

"From what I can tell, no. Black Ice only protects those that are victims of organized crime syndicates, not aggressors."

"So the boy is still fair game then." The Don cracked a smile. "Good. All we need to do is draw him out in the open."

-----

"This is impossible!" Edge thought. "How can something this young and weak be equal to _me_?"

The long-haired demon's body heaved with every breath. His muscles ached and it took every ounce of his strength just to remain standing. His opponent was in no better shape. He had not landed a hit on the child, but the constant dodging, parrying, and failed counterattacks had drained the boy as well.

The house, on the other hand, was the real victim. Their battle had almost completely gutted the interior. Walls were criss-crossed with long, smooth scars, if they were not knocked down. The sparse furniture that was left behind by the previous owner was utterly demolished. The kitchen sink was shattered and pouring out water that slowly crept into the house.

Dante tried to come up with a good one-liner for the situation, but exhaustion had fouled up his thinking process.

"This is it!" Edge thought. "The next blow will finish everything!"

Before he had a chance to launch an attack, the house suddenly lost its light from the outside. The water in the house flowed to the center of the room like it was caught in a funnel. The water bulged in the center and defied gravity as it slowly ascended, became taller, and took form.

Dante thought for a moment that it looked like a pillar of living Jell-O.

The water took on a feminine figure. Dante could make out a woman's natural curves, full bodied hair that almost reached the small of her back, and thin arms and legs. The figure became more defined, more human like, until it was like an actual woman was in the room, a woman that was clear and made the occasional sloshing sound when she moved. She was in-between Dante and Edge with her back to the full demon.

"What, more of you guys live here?" Dante jeered. "No one told me you had a girlfriend, Edge. I would have brought flowers…or a sponge or something."

Despite his humor, Dante felt coldness in the pit of his stomach. Edge had proven to be more formidable than he thought, facing a second demon would not fair well for him.

"Abeona!" Edge sounded strangely pissed off for having someone come to his aid. "What are you doing?!"

When the water woman spoke there was no sound from her, it was just a voice inside Dante's head that echoed like she was speaking in a cavernous tunnel.

"I believe this is enough." She said. "Anymore and you might injure him more than he needs to be."

"Injure?!" Edge said disbelievingly. "I want him dead! And we had a deal! I kill him and you give me what I desire!"

"Indeed." The voice sounded amused. "Well, you've done you're part. Allow me to reward you."

As soon as she finished her sentence, a dozen tendrils of water shot out from the woman's back. They pierced Edge's body. After a few seconds, the tendrils retracted back into woman's body. Edge's lifeless form crashed to the ground.

Dante gripped Rebellion tighter. "Kinda cold-blooded there. Killing your lackey and all. Not that I'm gonna shed a tear."

"His usefulness was simply at an end. If I had let him live than he would have gone off to kill more humans. That I simply cannot allow."

Dante paused for a moment, wondering if he heard right, a demon that did _not_ humans to die.

"Come again?"

She raised her arm with her hand opened, like she was telling someone to stop.

Dante's body suddenly became locked into place. His joints refused to move. His feet no longer touched the ground as something lifted him into the air. Rebellion clamored as it fell to the ground.

"Times have changed. Humans have evolved since our expulsion from this realm. No longer do they use swords and shields. No longer do they shoot arrows out of bows or launch rocks out of catapults."

She moved to close the gap between them. She did not walk or even use her legs. She just slid across the floorboards like an ice skater given a push forward.

"Now they control the ground, skies, and even underwater with vehicles of steel and electricity. They have manipulated science to create weapons capable of destroying entire cities and saturating the ground with toxic materials for decades. The have even used diseases as a weapon of war. They can destroy this entire world ten times over with what they have. Extinguish all life, forever."

She came within arms reach. He could make out more distinguishing features on her face, but some important parts were missing. She had eyes without pupils or irises and a mouth that did not move when she spoke. She was like a mannequin made of clear plastic.

"Even though we have found ways back to the mortal world, we must remain in the shadows, hidden from human's eye. If our existence became public than these weapons would be turned on us. Powerful as we may be, those that can cross the border are not strong enough to battle the full might of the human's armies."

"And you care what happens to other demons because…?" Dante glared.

"Ah, now that is a mystery." The voice was teasing. "Let's just say I have certain…interests."

She reached out and caressed his check. Even though she was made of water, her hand was warm. He was expecting for her to leave a dampness behind, but the water remained apart of her and left him dry.

"You're apart of my interests, son of Sparda. I need you, alive and healthy, but also stronger, more knowledgeable of the threats that face you."

The water woman tipped her head to the demonic corpse behind her. "I used Edge to teach you what it's like to face a true demon, not the little weaklings that come after you. He wanted me to give him more power in exchange for killing you. A lie, I'll admit, but he wanted a short cut, a quick fix. Instead you're the one that has become stronger by fighting him. You've tasted true battle, Dante."

"Sorry, but I don't like being used, even if you want to keep me 'alive and healthy'. Now put me down before I make you spring a leak."

A soft laugh came. "You're definitely your father's son. And if you want to be more specific, it's more of a…partnership. I get what I want and you get the power that is rightfully yours."

Then the water woman kissed him. Dante tried to struggle out of her grasp, but her hold was inescapable.

"We'll be in touch." She pulled away. "Remember, you have a powerful friend now."

Whatever held the water together and Dante into the air suddenly vanished and both Dante and the water fell to the ground with a splash. The water oozed to the bodies of Edge and Hong's men. The liquid enveloped and dissolved them, leaving nothing left. The water seeped into the cracks of the floorboards and vanished.

Dante wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Frenched by a talking puddle of water. What a way to end the day."

He retrieved his sword and slung it on his shoulder. He looked around the room for a moment, thinking more about what had just happened than the destruction he and Edge did to the house.

"A friend, huh? I doubt she's the type to have sleepovers." He said to himself.

As much as he hated to admit, Abeona, if that was her true name, was right. He was used to beating down thugs and low-class demons, not guys like Edge who truly knew how to fight. If he was going to face demons like him again, then he needed to get stronger and she appeared to be more than willing to give him the training, if he could call it that.

When he left the house he wondered if his new 'friend' was not a wolf in sheep's clothing.

He had a feeling he would find out, sooner or later.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Yo dudes. Took a bit to complete my latest chapters because of homework. I know it sounds like an excuse, but it's a good one. Anyways, hope you enjoy, and leave your thoughts please!

Disclaimer: Devil May Cry is owned by Capcom.

**Devil May Cry 4: Genesis**

**Chapter 3**

Dante had to clench his hand tight in order to stop himself from grasping Rebellion. Whenever he was bored, he always twirled his blade around. It was a habit like when someone tapped their finger or twirled their hair. Instead, Dante had to sit in mind-numbing boredom while he waited for his newest client to show up for their meeting. Rebellion was laid out on the large, black oak desk in front of him and a goon in a black suit and sunglasses stood beside him, obviously to control him if he got rowdy. Like that would have been possible. Two other men in similar attire were standing off to the side of the main door that led into the office of the Russian mob boss.

The half-demon was rather surprised that the local Russian mob boss, the infamous 'Red Wolf', had called him for a meeting, only days after his job with Hong. Of course, Dante did not know who the 'Red Wolf' really was, not many people did. Kyle had informed him that he had replaced the former Russian don, Nikolay Mayakovsky, when the latter was killed for certain dealings he did with other gangs that he kept to himself. The Russians stationed in the city were powerful during Nikolay's rule, but when the 'Red Wolf' stepped in, they almost became equals to the Benzetti family. But they did not do it through brute force…unless it was called for. Instead they expanded their domain by seducing or intimidating some of the surrounding, smaller gangs into their fold. Their cash intake tripled and they managed to grab onto prime real-estate in the downtown district. In fact, 'Red Wolf's' office was in a skyscraper owned entirely by the Russians.

The office was on the top floor and the windows behind the desk had a clear view over the entire city. But Dante did not care about a pretty view. So far he had been sitting in the plush chair for about twenty minutes and had grown angry nineteen minutes ago. He wanted to pace, but every time he got up, the man next to him put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down in the chair. Usually he would have thrown the man and his friends out the window and gone back home, but Kyle would no doubt be a big whiner about him not securing favor with the Russians. But then again, his patience only ran so long.

Finally the door opened and two individuals walked in, a man and a woman. The man was in a typical, drab, grey business suit and navy blue tie. He had graying hair and was probably well in his fifties, yet he had a strong build, most likely a result of his life as a mob man. Behind him was the woman. She was dressed in a female version of a black business suit complete with a knee-length dress. The woman was no spring chicken, probably in her mid to late thirties, but she had a mature beauty to her that even he had to admit was alluring. She was most likely the 'Red Wolf's' secretary and/or his main squeeze.

His theory was shot to hell when the woman took the seat behind the desk.

"My apologies for the long wait, Mr. Dante." The woman spoke with a thick Russian accent. "But I had some business to discuss with my superiors."

"'Red Wolf', huh?" Dante thought and eyed the woman's fiery red hair that she had in a French Twist style.

"Something wrong, Mr. Dante?" She asked.

"So you're the big cheese?" Dante crossed his legs, resting one of his ankles on his knee.

"Is there a problem?" She sounded amused.

"Not really." Dante replied off-handedly. "You're just the first boss that's a chick that I've seen so far."

"No doubt. Which is why I don't let many people know who I am, in fact I only show myself to those I truly trust." She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm honored." Dante said dryly.

"I took over after my husband's unfortunate departure from his position."

"Husband?" Dante inquired.

"Yes, I am Anna Mayakovsky, his wife." The red head opened a small box near her, retrieved a cigar, cut off the tip, and lit it. "My family has a long history with organized crime, even during the Soviet days. I learned from some of the best, but my husband was not and only got in by marrying me."

She paused and began to stare at him with a sort of smug grin. The odd smell from the tobacco was overpowering.

"What?" Dante broke the silence with an annoyed tone. "Is there something on my face?"

"I told you a little about myself. It's only polite that you tell me something about you."

"I look like a polite boy to you?"

The woman shrugged and examined the large weapon on her desk. She traced a well-manicured fingertip across the blade from the tip to the hilt.

"Quiet a sword you have, Mr. Dante." She spoke. "Hard to believe that someone as young as you can wield it."

"I'm full of surprises." Dante coyly answered.

"I believe that's enough small talk." Anna tapped the ash off her cigar into a crystal ashtray. "Your probably wondering why you're here."

"Thought crossed my mind."

"Mr. Hong told me about the special job you did for him." She leaned back in her leather chair. "I was wondering if you would be so kind as to do for me what you did for him."

Dante huffed. "Everyone seems to have demon problems as of late."

"Actually this has been plaguing us for a while." She began. "It was at an empty field where we did some of our…'trading'. Sometimes we would lose one of our men who would patrol the area. At first we thought they were deserters until we started finding blood."

"Blood?" Dante asked.

"Pools of it. Usually where the vanished men were assigned. No bodies or anything, just blood. Despite our efforts, we never found out why."

The 'Red Wolf' furrowed her brow. It appeared that her predicament really bothered her.

"We stopped using that field and moved ourselves to other locations and it seemed that whatever was attacking us didn't follow…"

"Let me guess, until now?" Dante asked.

"Worse than before." She sighed. "Now entire teams are being lost and we're still in the dark as to who and why."

"And you want me to stop it."

The 'Red Wolf' smiled and leaned forward. "By any means necessary."

-----

Lenard growled when his cell phone went off. He snatched the annoying little thing and answered. "Who the hell is this?! I'm trying to get some sleep here, you mother-"

"It's me." Came from the other line.

"Tim?" Lenard sat up from his bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "What's goin' on?"

"Be quiet and listen. Mr. Benzetti wants us to go hunting."

Lenard smiled. It was about time he got to get some action after a boring couple of weeks "Really? And just what are we huntin'?"

"A dog that sticks its nose into somethin' it shouldn't."

"Alright, when and where?"

"Got word that the Russians are playin' nice with him and sent him on a job. We tail him and put him down. Comin' t' get ya now. See ya in a few."

"Gotcha." Lenard hung up and jumped out of bed.

-----

Dante had to admit, the 'Red Wolf' knew how to treat people. She had her own personal limousine take him to one of the spots where the disappearances occurred. She even had them have a few cans of strawberry soda on hand just for him.

He watched the passing scenery as he downed his first can. He noticed a subtle change of the buildings from pristine and new to old and ramshackle as the car ride went further into the slums of the city. After a while, he was surrounded by buildings that were on the verge of falling apart or already had. The poorly-maintained streets were lifeless except for the occasional wild dog or homeless wanderer. Lose newspapers fluttered down the street only to be caught by the updraft caused by the Russian's speeding vehicle.

"Hey, Jeeves!" Dante called out as he relaxed with his feet up. "How long till we get there?"

The driver said something, but his thick Russian accent, plus the fact he was mumbling, made Dante unable to properly decipher what he said.

The limousine pulled into an abandoned parking lot. The headlights flashed across a large, flat, one-story building with large, boarded up windows across the front. Dante deduced that it was an old grocery store judging by the shopping carts that riddled the lot. Finally, the car came to a stop. The driver got out and opened Dante's door. The boy hopped out and placed Rebellion across his shoulders. The headlights showed a phalanx of black cars surrounded by men in dark suits. The men ranged from young twenty-ish thugs to older guys with dull hair and sharp eyes. All of them carried a flashlight and a weapon from 9mm pistols to AK-47s.

One of the men stepped forward. Like the others, he was dressed in a suit, but he also had a long overcoat over it. He appeared to be middle-aged and had a hard face with short-cropped hair. He stopped in front of Dante and gave him a quick look over before turning to the driver. The two had a quick conversation in Russian. Dante did not know what was being said, but he guessed that the man was asking the driver who he was. The driver's answer did not please him as he made a sour face, turn to Dante, then let out a sudden tornado of Russian words back at the driver. The driver remained neutral to the man then said something to him in a much calmer tone. The man snarled for a moment, spat on the ground, and turned fully to Dante.

"So you're the help Mrs. Mayakovsky sent?" He also spoke with a noticeable Russian accent. "Unbelievable. I asked for more men and I get one snot-nosed brat."

"Nice to meet you too." Dante spoke flatly. "What's going on here?"

The man jerked his head to the building. "Sweep and clear. This place was the latest they hit, only an hour ago. We had the area sealed off before it happened. No one got in or out, so we know they're still in there. We go in and kill everything that moves."

"What about your guys that are still in there?"

The man shrugged. "Probably dead already."

"Quite the optimist, I see."

"If they were still alive, they would have gotten out by now." The man said indifferently. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"So do I." Dante added.

"I don't think so." The man held up a hand. "You stay here."

"Listen buddy, your boss asked me to come here. You got a problem, talk to her."

"Normally, this is the part of the conversation where I tell you to do whatever the hell you want, but I'll be damned if I let a kid get killed for trying to do my job."

"Worried about me? I'm flattered." Dante said dryly.

"I'm no saint." The man admitted. "But I've seen enough bad things in my life. I don't want to see them anymore."

The two locked gazes for a moment before Dante spoke.

"Whatever, as long as I still get paid."

"We'll see." The man spun on his heel and walked toward his small army. "And stay put." He yelled over his shoulder.

He watched from a distance as the men moved to the store. In military fashion, the men stacked up along the door. Usually a man would kick the door open, but since it was mostly glass, the lead man gently pushed it open and the Russians flowed into the opening with keen precision and unity.

"They are ex-army back in old country." The driver said with an even thicker accent. "Fought everywhere before coming here."

"Ya don't say." Dante said in an uninterested tone.

The boy could make out the flashlights seep from between the wooden boards on the windows. It seemed that they were searching the building.

"Want me to take you back?" The driver asked.

Suddenly a burst of gunfire sounded from the old grocery store. Faint yelling was barely audible to the two.

"Nah." Dante said. "I'm gonna go earn my pay."

The half-demon started to walk away.

"Wait!" The driver called out. "Ivan said not to go in!"

Deducing that Ivan was the man he talked to earlier, Dante replied. "I didn't get where I am today by listening to my elders!"

-----

Ivan was baffled as to what the hell was going on. The operation had gone by the book so far. Their entry and securing of the building was flawless. The place was empty except for the pools of blood they found. No bodies, no guns, no spent ammo casings or bullet holes. Which meant whatever happened, it was quick enough to end before anyone inside could retaliate. Then someone opened fire near the back, but quickly stopped. It happened again to his left, than to his right. Soon the entire building was engulfed with guns discharging and flashlights whipping around, trying to find anyone. He saw a few lights suddenly vanish and the gunfire become less frequent.

He yelled out names and asked for reports of what was going on.

"I see it!" He heard over the gunfire. "Over here! I see-"

The voice ended in a sick gurgling sound.

"What the fuck?!" A voice came from behind him. "What the fuck are these-"

He turned around just in time to see legs kicking into the air with the body they were attached to being yanked over one of the empty shelving units. Ivan swung his 47 around to point his flashlight that he taped underneath the barrel to get a better look. He saw…something behind the shelves. Whatever it was it was covered with an assortment of black cloth and non-reflective metal. The thing moved like a spooked rat, scurrying away from the light until Ivan lost it altogether.

"Circle up!" He yelled to whoever could still hear him. "They strike from behind!"

Two men that were nearby instantly obeyed and put their backs to him, creating a three man circle. The man to his left held a pump shotgun and like Ivan, had an industrial flashlight taped on. The man on his right was only armed with a 9mm pistol. His left hand held his flashlight with his right holding his weapon. He rested his right wrist on his left to keep his weapon stable and aimed at the light, like many police and army men were trained to do.

The men kept searching the area with their eyes. The man with the pistol swallowed nervously. They trained their ears hoping to pick up anything that would betray their enemy's position. Glass being stepped on, a cough or sneeze, accidentally bumping into something, any of those would have done. Instead all they could hear was tension filled silence. They could not even hear their own breathing.

Than Ivan saw it, movement above, he snapped his head up. Something covered in black was on the ceiling right above them.

"Damn it!" He yelled and brought his weapon up.

His eyes barely register something big and shiny collide with the black thing above him. The black thing became a rocket as it was torn off the ceiling and slammed into the tile wall. The creature began to screech and flounder spastically as it tried to escape. Ivan could clearly see what tried to attack him. It was roughly human shaped and had on a large black cape or cloak that was torn and shredded at the ends. Its body was strapped with armor plating with scraps of black cloth hanging out. The thing wore a metal mask, but its lower jaw was exposed showing crackly dark green skin and a single point of red light blinked through its mask's left eye hole. To Ivan, its clothing looked like it was just thrown together. He also realized that the thing that held the creature to the wall was a sword. The same sword the kid had.

"Nice shot, don'tcha think?"

Ivan and the others turned and aimed their flashlights at the voice. Dante held up his hand to shield his eyes from the lights.

"Damn, man!" Dante swore. "Right in my fucking eyes!"

Ivan lowered his weapon. "I thought I told you to stay put."

"I work for Anna, not you, pops." Dante said.

A gut-wrenching shriek came from the creature as it realized that it was impaled with a blade. A clawed-metal-encased hand grasped the weapon to dislodge it.

"What're you guys waitin' for, an invitation?" Dante asked sardonically. "You got the guns."

Ivan snapped out of his daze caused by witnessing an inhuman thing being nailed to a wall with a sword and raised his weapon. The other men followed suit. Rounds ripped through the demon, causing it to cry out in its unnatural voice.

Ivan eased off the trigger before he emptied his clip. It was not a good idea to just unload on one enemy and not be prepared for more. The others did the same.

The demon was limp. The blood-soaked straight-edged sword it held clattered to the ground.

He heard someone snap their fingers. The sword that had it pinned wobbled a bit, freed itself, and spun back into the boy's hand.

"One down." Dante said. "Bet he has friends though."

The man with the pistol carefully nudged the corpse with his toe. "What the hell is this thing?"

"They attacked us and they can be killed." Ivan said. "That's all the information we need right now."

More movement was caught by Ivan's eye. It came from right behind the man with the pistol. He never even had a chance to warn him before a blade pierced the man's chest and he was yanked into the darkness. The man with the shotgun yelled and fired where the demon was, but only hit the wall.

Ivan cursed in Russian. "We need to get out of here, now! Fall back to the door!"

The boy suddenly thrust his sword at him. It happened so fast that Ivan did not even have time to retaliate. The blade went to his left and missed him by mere inches. A familiar, inhuman cry came from behind him. He jerked away and spun around. Dante had skewered another demon that somehow got behind him. Dante then raised his sword over him, the demon still impaled, and brought it down like a hammer over another demon that was behind the boy. Spotting his next target, the half-demon whipped his weapon around and batted another demon out of the air, causing it to crash into the shelves. He changed the sword's direction and slammed it into another demon that had vaulted over a counter top, causing the demon that he had originally impaled to finally slide off his sword.

"Yo, pops!" Dante said. "Better beat it while ya can!"

Ivan stood, agape for a moment before regaining his wits. He looked around for the man with the shotgun, but could not find him. Realizing that the shotgun man was the victim of one of the demons during the fight, he bolted for the door.

"Who is that kid?" Ivan thought as he ran.

The Russian darted out the door and kept going. He had to get to his cell phone in his car, call for back up and bigger guns. Hell, he would have to level the entire damn building. A small pang of guilt for leaving the boy behind came up, but he quickly pushed it down. The kid could obviously take care of himself.

A barrage of lights pierced the darkness from the other end of the parking lot, causing Ivan to jump slightly.

"Freeze, Ruskie!" A man called out. "Or we'll drink vodka out the new hole we'll put in yer head!"

Ivan shielded his eyes from the lights. He could make out men with guns in front of a new group of cars. Judging by the man that spoke to him, they were not fellow Russians. He slowly placed his gun on the ground and raised his hands. No point in getting shot over a misunderstanding.

A man stepped forward, pointing a military-issued assault rifle at him. The man was dressed in a suit and had dirty blonde hair. He stopped a few feet from Ivan.

"We ain't gotta problem with you, commie." The man said. "Just tell us where the kid is and we'll be on our merry way."

Ivan hardened his eyes and ground his teeth, but remained silent.

"Tell us." The man sounded impatient. "Unless you wanna join your friend." He pointed to the limousine.

Ivan stole a glance and saw the driver laid out on the cold ground in a pool of blood.

"Idiot." Ivan growled. "Do you want to start a war with us?"

The man raised his gun to his shoulder and took aim. "If you don't tell me where the brat is by the time I count to three, I'm gonna paste your fuckin' brains on the pavement!"

"One!"

The boy was not apart of the Russian mob, he was not even Russian, but he had saved his life. He had a debt to the kid and he was not going to sell him out.

"Two!"

Everyone dies, that is what he learned during his time in the Soviet army. He was prepared to face death everyday. It was just a pity he had to die at an old, forgotten dump of a store.

"Three!"

One of the windows of the store burst open. Something flew through the air and slammed into one of the cars.

A panic came over the men as they could not deduce what had just happened. The corpse of a demon twitched as the surrounding mobsters poked and prodded it. Ivan thought he could escape, but the blonde man's gun never wavered, a sign of a true professional.

"Hey, comin' through!"

Dante stepped out of the store through the busted out window. The Mafiosi snapped to attention and aimed their guns at the approaching boy.

The blonde man flashed a smirk. "Decided to show yerself, eh? You've caused Mr. Benzetti some grief."

"Whatever." Dante said. "I'm kinda busy right now, can you come back later?"

The blonde snarled. The runt was either very stupid or utterly fearless. Either way, he was about to be a dead runt.

"Fuck this kid, Tim!" One of the men yelled out. "Let's just plug 'em and the Ruskie and get a drink!"

"Shut up, Lenard! I'm the one in charge!"

Suddenly a piercing scream filled the air. Tim looked back in time to see two blades slice open Lenard. A figure in black stood over the body. One by one, he watched his men being torn apart by things in black cloaks that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

The demons were unusually jittery in their movements. Their actions were mostly jerky and swift. Their heads were constantly moving, turning this way and that, looking around them like they were expecting something to happen. They were hunched over and kept low to the ground, almost like they were uncomfortable fighting in the open. It was strange for Ivan, seeing predators having prey-like mannerisms.

Ivan noticed that the demons were similar, yet different from the demon that Dante had nailed to the wall earlier. Some had different masks on and others wielded different weapons. Some had two swords while others had only one. Either way, they were extremely efficient in their kills. A single strike from them was death. All of Benzetti's men were dead within seconds as they were torn apart and gutted.

Well almost everyone. Tim had his head turned to witness the carnage. Ivan could not see his face, but by the trembling, he was obviously frightened. To tell the truth, Ivan felt fear rising from the pit of his stomach.

"What the fuck's goin' on?!" Tim roared and brought his head around to face Ivan.

Realizing that Tim was talking to him, Ivan was stumped on what to say. It would not have mattered anyway as a split second later Tim's head came off his body and sailed through the air. Ivan beheld a demon standing over the headless body. This one was larger than the previous demons. Its entire head was shrouded in the blackness of its hood. A gothic-looking scythe was grasped in its armored hands. Ivan began to slowly back up, but the large demon moved forward keeping the distance between them the same.

"Looks like death has come for me." Ivan thought.

Something small shot up into the air behind the demon. The thing, a person, got bigger as it fell toward them with a red coat flapping behind it. Dante dropped past the demon, but not before sinking his sword into the demon's back. The demon's pain-filled cry thundered as it thrashed about. Dante spun around and delivered a flying kick that sent the demon careening into the line of cars brought by Benzetti's hit squad. Two cars almost flipped over when the full mass of the hell spawn struck them.

Ivan's hand shot out and grasped Dante's arm. "Let's go, kid!"

The white-haired boy wrenched his arm free. "Don't think so, pops. Your boss wants me to do a job and I don't do jobs half-assed."

Once again, Ivan was taken aback by the boy as he hurled himself back into the fray. He also noticed that the demons that had killed off Tim and his group were now in pieces themselves all over the parking lot. He found it impossible to comprehend that the kid had managed to take down all of them between the time the demons attacked and when he struck the larger demon. He estimated that only two to three minutes had passed.

The larger demon, back on its feet, swung its scythe at the boy with blinding speed. The boy effortlessly ducked under the attack, spun around the demon, and pulled free his sword. The demon pulled a 180 with its weapon out to strike. Again the scythe missed its marks and Dante retaliated with a horizontal swipe that sliced the demon's weapon in two. The demon stumbled back, looked at its destroyed weapon, dropped it, and leaped on to the roof of the grocery store.

"Don't run! Don't run!" Dante was high on his adrenaline rush. "This party's just gettin' started!"

The red wearing boy sprung into the air like an invisible hand just plucked him from the ground and carried him after the retreating demon. He landed on the roof only to find a lone figure far too small to be the demon he was fighting a moment ago. The figure's shape was familiar.

"Hello again, Dante." A voice inside his head spoke.

Dante grimaced. Abeona's avatar was not water this time, but he was not sure what it was. The form was pure black, like a three dimensional shadow.

"I see you've managed to defeat the Stalkers." Abeona spoke. "You're growing stronger more quickly than I've anticipated."

"Oh, please." Dante said dismissively. "They were good at hiding and not much else."

"Perhaps." The woman moved slowly toward him. "But that's why I chose them."

Dante frowned. "So, you had a hand in this, eh?"

"Not really. They were around before I met them and I had absolutely nothing to do with their choice of targets." She added a pause before continuing. "But, when I told them I could bring you to them, they started to get a little…anxious."

"Told them?" Dante huffed. "Sounds more like ya sold me out. And I thought you said we were friends."

"Oh, we are, dear." Abeona spoke in a totally innocent tone. She was now a few feet from him. "But I'm a friend that wants to make you stronger."

"Well, color my cheeks pink." Dante dryly commented. "Now where's the big one at? I gotta job to finish."

Dante found his body suddenly unresponsive, just like the time at the house with his battle with the demon, Edge.

"The Alpha-Stalker is gone." She came to a stop in front of him. "Most likely to regain his strength and replenish his pack that you killed. But don't worry. I made sure to convince him to lay low for awhile. He and his ilk won't be bothering you or your client for sometime."

"I'd rather have him dead." Dante snarled. "Now where's he go?"

She gently caressed his cheek. "You must be patient, young one. You'll get to battle him again. But until then…"

She walked around him and disappeared from his sight. After a few seconds, he could move again. He whipped around and ran to the edge of the roof. Below were the cars, street lights, and a few empty carts. But Abeona and the remains of both demons and humans were gone.

"Boy!"

He spotted Ivan directly under him, looking like he had seen a ghost. Dante dropped down from the roof and walked up to him.

"What happened?" He asked.

The Russian shrugged. "I'm not sure, after you went after that thing, this black fog went over this place. When it went away, the bodies were gone. No blood. Not a trace."

Dante frowned. Just like the time at the old house.

"What happened up there?" Ivan inquired. "Did you get that thing?"

"Not quite." Dante muttered. "I ran into someone."

Ivan wanted to ask who, but the night had been a total mind fuck. He had lost his squad of men he served with in the Soviet army by things he was sure only existed in nightmares. And to top it all off, he owed his life to a young, foul-mouthed, arrogant kid that possessed what he could only call superhuman abilities. All he wanted to do was get back to the boss and give his report.

He gave a glance to the kid that was pissed about something and wondered just where the 'Red Wolf' found him.

-----

"All of them?!" The Don roared. "He killed all of them?!"

Michael hesitated. "Well, to be more precise, they've all disappeared, sir. No evidence of bodies."

"Spent shell casings, dropped guns, _blood_?" The Don was beyond furious. "I think that evidence speaks for itself."

The Don slouched in his chair and took a long drink of whiskey.

"Over thirty of my best men, dead." He spoke unbelievingly. "By one kid. And we don't even know how he did it."

Adriana sat on her father's desk with her legs crossed and her top leg bouncing. Her childish smile was on her face.

"Since your men failed, daddy, perhaps I should step in?"

"Not quite yet, dear." The Don tapped a finger on his desk anxiously. "I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve."

The fireplace crackled, hissed, and popped, replacing the silence that was brought upon by the Don thinking about what to do next.

"Just because I've lost my men, doesn't make me without resources." The Don smiled. "And I've got the perfect one in mind." He turned to his trusted aid. "Michael."

The spectacled man snapped to attention. "Yes, sir?"

"Contact Phoenix. Tell him I have a job for him."

"At once, sir." Michael nodded his head and left.

"Phoenix?" Adriana asked. "Who is he?"

"An assassin, the best in town." The Don spoke smugly. "Like our little friend, he never fails either."

"Really?" Adriana sounded disappointed. "Sounds like I won't be getting a crack at Dante at all."

The Don ignored his daughter and grinned. Phoenix was the absolute best he had. With him on the job, the brat was as good as dead.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'll be posting the progress of my stories on my profile. So if you wanna know how close I am to finishing the next chapter just stop on by!

Disclaimer: DMC owned by Capcom

**Devil May Cry: Genesis**

**Chapter 4**

The night at the _Devil's Paradise_ had been rather slow. Only a few men straight from their late-night shifts blew into the strip bar. Nonetheless, the generic rock music kept playing at such loud levels that two people outside a radius of a few feet would have to resort to yelling to communicate with each other. A few women were up on the platforms, doing their own little dances while the others patrol the floor, picking out the right type of drunk who would gladly hand over the contents of his wallet, but still sober enough to keep his hands were they could be seen. Glow-in-the-dark lights outline the border of linoleum tiled walkways and carpeted booths. At the bar, a pair of young men wearing dress shirts with loosened ties laughed and slapped each other on the back while downing pint after pint of beer. One of the men looked past his friend's shoulder when he saw something that caught his eye then pointed it out.

A boy, no older than 15 or 16 perhaps, with white hair and a red coat was sitting somberly at the bar, nursing a can of strawberry soda in his hands.

"Since when do they let brats in here?" One of the men slurred.

"Hey, kid?" The other man stumbled to where the boy sat with his friend right behind him. "What're you doin' here? Waitin' for your mama to get off work?"

The two men sputtered and laughed. The kid did not reply or show any type of response.

"Aw, come on, kid, it's a joke, lighten up. Hey, point out which one's yer ma and I'll give 'er a nice tip."

Again the men laugh stupidly.

"Hey, hey, I bet if I play my cards right with her, I'd be yer new daddy, eh? Wouldn't that be-"

The man stopped when a large sword, almost as long as the kid they were heckling, came to a stop a centimeter from his Adam's apple.

"You talk a lot, you know that?" The kid finally said. "It's real annoying."

The men, a loss for words, back away slowly from the kid before going into a mad dash for the door. A large, brutish bouncer blocked their way.

"You didn't pay your bill, sirs" The bouncer said.

"Hey, man!" One of the men said in a frightened tone. "You gotta do somethin' about that kid over there! He pulled a sword on me!"

The bouncer's eyes quickly darted to where the man was pointing and back again. "What sword?"

The men looked back to see the kid sitting like he was when they first saw him. The blade was nowhere in sight.

"He…he had it a second ago! You gotta believe me, man, he threatened me with it! Tell him, Dan!"

"The only thing I see," The bouncer leaned in threateningly, "is a pair of bozos skipping out on their bill."

Dante could not help but let a smug smile spread on his face when he heard the two men try to explain their way out of getting roughed up. Nick, the bartender, rolled his eyes and promised himself never to hide the kid's sword for a prank again.

"You need to stop doing that, or you'll drive away all of my customers." Valentine took a seat next to him.

"I doubt you'll go broke because those two dickheads won't be coming back."

"Perhaps." She lit a cigarette. "But still, manners, Dante."

The white-haired boy rolled his eyes and emptied his soda into his stomach.

Fifi, dressed in a rather small catholic school girl uniform with white stockings, bounded up to the bar. "One mint julep, Nick."

Nick wordlessly prepared the drink.

"Hey, Dante!" Fifi smiled and ruffled his hair. "I gotta guy who's loaded. Just got paid today. Wish me luck."

"Yeah. Good luck. Whatever."

Fifi was about to say something when she spotted someone enter the bar, someone new. New guys were always scrutinized by the girls that work at Valentine's little establishment. You may not be able to judge a man by his clothes but you could guess how much money he had. The man was tall, almost as tall as the bouncers, Jake and Max, but lean, almost skinny. A long black nylon trench coat fluttered behind him, the edge coming down to his ankles. He had on a black vest over a white business shirt and black tie. The brim of his black fedora hat covered his eyes.

Fifi put on a smile and prepared her rehearsed greeting. "Welcome, handsome. Haven't seen you here before. Care for a dance?"

"Another time, miss." The man spoke politely and turned to Nick. "Jack and coke, please."

In a few seconds, the mixed drink was placed in front of the man. The man sat down and took off his Al Capone-styled hat revealing a head of black, straight hair that came to his ears and a pair of designer sunglasses.

Fifi shrugged and then remembered her mark for the evening. She grabbed the drink she ordered and walked hurriedly to her table.

The man eyed Dante for a moment before turning his attention to his drink. "Nice coat, kid."

"Thanks. Wish I could say the same for you."

The man made an amused sound before taking a drink. "I suppose it is a little drab. I've had this old thing for a while now."

"And what's with the hat? Didn't that go out of style in the fifties?"

"What can I say? I love the classics." The man replied in a slick voice.

"You'll have to excuse my small friend here." Valentine joined in. "He's a bit crabby today, and if he keeps this up, homeless as well."

"Hey, I'm just talkin' to the guy." Dante said in a faked innocent tone. "No need to put out threats."

"It's alright." The man smiled. "Boys will be boys, right?"

Dante narrowed his eyes but did not reply.

"So, who are you?" Valentine leaned on the bar. "Not many people try to strike up conversations with our cute mascot."

"Me? No one special." The man sounded like he had said that many times before.

"Come, now. Everyone has their story." Valentine prodded.

"Well, mine is long and rather boring."

Dante thought how more boring it could be.

The man placed his emptied glass on the table, shelled out a few dollars, and returned his hat to his head.

"A pleasure speaking to you, kid. Ma'am" He said in a semi-sarcastic tone.

Dante watched the man leave from over his shoulder. He wrinkled his nose.

"Something wrong, hun?" Valentine asked.

A moment passed before he answered. "It's nothin'."

--

"I've met him." The man with the hat said into his cell phone. He speed dialed his client the second he left the strip bar. "Seems like a good kid. Little rude, but what kid isn't?"

"I didn't pay you to make friends." His client said at the other end of the line, clearly agitated. "I want the kid dead, buried, and forgotten. Are we clear?"

The man frowned. "I don't do women or kids. The only reason I took this job was of all those rumors about him."

"Well, rumors or not, I expect you to do your job." His client said.

"Not to worry, Mr. Benzetti. I'll take care of it."

"I know you will, Phoenix." The Don hung up.

The assassin flipped the phone close and walked off.

--

"I hope you like Oolong Tea." Hong asked. "It's my favorite."

"I'm a brandy woman, myself." Anna Mayakovsky replied. "But I'll give it a taste."

Ivan stood by his boss's side. Normally he was calm and collected, but tonight he felt more than a little agitated. Being in the very heart of Hong's territory was far from soothing, even with the truce between them. Not to mention that his army was a little light due to the loss of his comrades at the abandoned market. He hid his anxiety with the mask of professionalism that he learned while in the Soviet army. But he had the feeling that Hong's two bodyguards could pick up his underlying worry. The man in the funny Chinese clothes and the woman in the suit seemed to radiate experience.

But of course, the 'Red Wolf' would not be so foolhardy as to come into Hong's private meeting without a demonstration as well. Sarnov, Anna's own bodyguard and right hand man, was also present and took position at her opposite side. Ivan served in the Army, but Sarnov…he was something else. No one knew his back story, not even Ivan. The man was not a talker or drinker, he was like a monk. He was well in his fifties, graying hair, and gave off a sort of 'I'll-kill-you-if-you-come-close' feel usually reserved for heavily tattooed, mean-looking, large men and women jilted by their lovers. Sarnov stuck to Anna like glue and took his job to a joyless extreme. No slacking off for him, Ivan doubted the man knew how to have fun. But when you are in a restaurant surrounded by an army of rival gangsters, it is good to have a scary guy on your side.

A Chinese waitress came up next to Anna and placed a Chinese-styled cup in front of her. The waitress than bowed and took her leave. Anna wrapped her fingers around the cup, smelled it, and then took a long sip.

"Not bad." She said in a satisfied tone. "But I didn't come to your fine establishment to drink tea."

"Of course." Hong folded his hands. "I've come across something of interest that I wish to share with you."

"Do you now?" Anna held the cup in front of her lips.

"It has to do with our mutual friend, Dante." Hong continued. "It appears that Mr. Benzetti has gone to the extremes to get rid of him."

"Well, he has proven to be quiet the problem child."

"So much of a problem that he has acquired the services of Phoenix." Hong paused for a moment. "You do know who Phoenix is?"

Anna's face held a sort of insulted look. "He's the best assassin in the city. I'm not an immigrant fresh off the boat, Mr. Hong. I know this city as well as you."

Hong gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry. But you must admit this is troubling news. Dante has proven himself to be a most reliable asset."

"I agree, but he's also proven that he is more than capable of taking care of himself."

"Very true. However, Phoenix got his title of top assassin for a reason. His ventures are the stuff of legend."

"As are Dante's. But you know how rumors can be misleading. The only difference between them is that we know about Dante's abilities."

"But that means we do not know of Phoenix's. I'll be cheering for Dante, but I doubt Phoenix will be a push over."

"Well," Anna looked at her drink thoughtfully, "perhaps we can help tip the odds further in Dante's favor. With Benzetti's hired killer gone, that'll make our mutual enemy that much weaker."

"That," Hong said in a tone meant to convey a feeling of disappointment, "is where things get troublesome."

"Oh?" Anna cocked an eyebrow.

"A woman came to me yesterday. A very polite girl. She said not to interfere with the inevitable confrontation with Phoenix and Dante. And before she left-"

"Let me guess," Anna interrupted, "she gave you this?"

Anna retrieved a small business card from her pocket and slid it to Hong. The card's face had four words:

_Aileen Sung_

_Black Ice_

"So, she visited you too?"

"Today, almost four hours ago." She said. "At first I thought she was one of yours."

"I'm afraid not. You see, her name is Korean and the Koreans and I…don't get along to well."

"I see." Anna said in a disinterested tone. "At any rate, I fail to see why we should listen to her. The nerve of that woman, telling me what to do."

"Actually, I was going to suggest that we abide by her wishes."

Anna looked at Hong with uncertainty. "I assume there's a reason behind your choice."

"I take it you've never encountered Black Ice before?" Hong asked.

Anna waited a moment before answering. "No."

"My predecessor tried to go against Black Ice when they were protecting someone from him." Hong shrugged. "It took me awhile to put the pieces back together. That is, after Black Ice made his position vacant."

Anna gave a small, unbelieving laugh. "You expect me to believe that? That there's some organization that can best operations as big and powerful as ours? They're just vigilantes, nothing more."

Hong shrugged. "If you want to tempt fate, be my guest. Just don't come crying to me when Black Ice cuts the legs out from under you."

Anna narrowed her eyes. "Cowardice does not suit you, Hong."

"Even Benzetti isn't stupid enough to take on Black Ice." Hong pushed up his sunglasses. "But I think that there is a silver lining in the cloud."

Anna gave a cold smile. "You want to use Black Ice to take down Benzetti?"

"You're very sharp, Mrs. Mayakovsky. Black Ice is obviously interested in Dante, since I doubt they've sided with an assassin that still works for the major crime syndicates. And since Benzetti's crosshairs are on our mutual acquaintance, Dante's problems become Black Ice's problems."

"Assuming they think that Dante can't handle it."

"Then think of them as Dante's 'safety net'."

"We're getting a little ahead of ourselves." Anna sighed. "Just because Black Ice doesn't want us to interfere doesn't mean that they'll do anything against Benzetti."

"Perhaps." Hong agreed. "I believe a 'wait and see' approach is best right now."

"Very well." Anna stood up. Sarnov helped her put her coat back on. "But I should warn you, I will not sit back and watch if things get out of hand. I prefer to shape the events around me instead of letting it happen."

"As do I." Hong nodded.

--

Dante trotted down the alleyway, bored, irritated, and with nothing to do. There were no jobs that required his unique services, the girls at the strip bar were bugging the crap out of him, and ever since the guy with the lame hat came to the _Devil's Paradise_, he felt on edge. The guy just rubbed him the wrong way and he could not shake the feeling.

Dante stopped dead in the alleyway, sandwiched between two buildings made of brick. A certain sensation ran up his spine. A vicious grin spread on his face. It looked like he would have a chance to blow off some steam.

The wall to his right caved in. Loose bricks fell to Dante's feet. A large being emerged from the newly formed hole in the wall. A demon with skin like that of cracked rock stepped out. Dante kept his head forward but observed the demon from the corner of his eye. The demon was large, nearly triple Dante's height. Its arms, legs, and body were thick with muscle. The demon's face was a mash-up of human and animal.

"The son of Sparda." It said in a thunderous voice. "At last I found you."

"And you are?" Dante said in a bored tone.

The demon snarled. "I shall end your reign of killing our kind, filthy half-breed. For I, Razakel, am a demon whom blades cannot pierce!"

Razakel fist was like a howitzer shell. Dante sprang into the air, easily dodging the attack. He landed a few meters away from the hulking demon that retracted its fist to reveal a small crater of pulverized concrete.

"Spry little thing." The demon chortled. "But you can't dodge me forever."

"Did Abeona send you?" Dante asked. He slowly twirled Rebellion once and let it rest on his shoulder. "That woman hangs around the weirdest people."

"Mock me all you wish, for in the end, all it will take for me to send you to the fires of hell is with but one punch!"

Razakel launched his right fist again. This time Dante did not move. The demon felt the utmost satisfaction when he felt his fist connect with something other than concrete. The smugness quickly left him when he noticed that Dante was still standing. The boy held his sword in front of him, one hand on the hilt, the other on the flat side on his sword. Dante had used his blade like a shield, intercepting Razakel's attack. The broken pavement underneath Dante's feet was a testament to the sheer power behind the demon's attack.

The demon sputtered for a moment. "How…is this possible?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell ya?" Dante smirked. "Bigger ain't always better."

Dante shifted his weight and spun around the demon's outstretched arm. He completed his spin by slashing Rebellion skyward. The demon choked in astonishment when he pulled back the stump that used to be his right arm. Dante had severed it just below the elbow. Blood did not flow out. Dante noticed from the stump that the demon was pure stone.

"'Blades cannot pierce', huh?" Dante snickered. "Talk about false advertisement."

"Impossible!" Razakel spat out while he nursed his injury. "Damn you!"

"Hey, you're the one that wanted to throw down." Dante pointed out. "And now you're bitchin' cause you're losing. Man, talk about sad."

Dante's statement snapped the demon out of its stupor. A dull chuckle came from it that soon became an arrogant laugh. "Losing? I don't think you know who you're dealing with…_boy_!"

The broken concrete and bricks from the fight suddenly sprang to life when they flew to Razakel and hovered around his missing arm. The rocks had the texture of play-doh as they formed themselves into a slab with sharp edges. A makeshift sword was now attached to Razakel.

"With this, I shall grind you into dust!" The demon bellowed.

Then Dante saw it. It was almost impossible to see for it was black upon night. But his demon senses could feel it. Another being with great power was falling, aimed right for Razakel like a heat-seeking missile. Something cut through the demon's left arm, slicing it off in a single, clean cut. The limb smashed into the pavement.

"Wh…what?!" The demon shuttered in fright. "What's going on?"

"Behind you, gruesome." A voice called.

Razakel lurched around. Dante caught flashes of steel break apart the stone demon. The rock that made up its body rained down on the alleyway. The demon's head landed with earth shattering force, its face caught in a mixture of surprise and horror.

Dante placed his sword over his shoulder as the figure in black stepped out of the shadows and into his sight. It was the man with the stupid hat.

"Dante." The man spoke. "Glad to meet you again."

A large sword was grasped in the man's right hand. Its length was about equal to Rebellion's but it was wider and heavier looking, like something a giant knight would wield. In fact it looked too wide and thick to be an actual sword, more like an oversized metal boat paddle. The blade's tip was wider than the rest of the sword and was curved, like a half-moon. The blade looked pristine, new. It shimmered from the rickety looking light fixtures hanging overhead. A single gold strip ran down the center of the blade to the large two-handed grip.

"You have a habit of showing up when you're not wanted." Dante said.

"And you have become a nuisance to some powerful people." The man stopped in front of the disembodied head of Razakel. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Phoenix and I am an assassin."

"I already knew that."

"Did you now?" Phoenix asked with an intrigued tone. "And just how do you know."

"When you sat by me." Dante crinkled his nose. "You reeked of blood and gun smoke. No amount of cologne can cover that."

Phoenix gave a smirk. "I guess some things can't be hidden. Like who you're really are. I thought Sparda's family was killed."

"Well, guess again, dipshit." Dante coldly said. "Now there a reason for interrupting my fun?"

"Fun? You mean this thing?" Phoenix stabbed his sword into the demon's head, splitting it in two. "He didn't look like he provided much of a challenge to you."

"And I suppose you think you can?"

"You and I are similar, Dante. Both of us have powerful blood in our veins. But I-"

"I'm gonna save you the effort and tell you right now that _I don't care_!" Dante interrupted. "So less talk, more rock."

"Alright than." Phoenix sighed disappointedly. "Just don't die on me too quickly."

"I'll remember that when you limp home."

Dante charged Phoenix, dragging his sword on the pavement, leaving a trail of sparks behind him. The assassin stood his ground and held his sword limply at his side. When he was within range, Dante brought his sword around. Phoenix snapped his wrist, causing the massive blade to lurch up and parry Rebellion. Without missing a beat, Dante twirled around Phoenix and arched his sword up, aiming for his opponent's groin. The sword missed its target when Phoenix spun around the attack and brought his sword in a horizontal swipe. The blade tore through the walls. Dante stepped back just in time to avoid getting sliced in half.

Phoenix reached into his coat and whipped out a pistol with an elongated clip. The gun lit up the alleyway with fully automatic fire. Dante held up his sword in defense and felt rounds ricochet off it. A few bullets struck his arm and leg, but by the time the pain hit him, the wounds had already healed.

"Hmmm. I see this won't due." Phoenix let the gun fall out of his hand. "Looks like I'll have to put more effort into this."

"Does that mean you usually do things this half-assed?" Dante grinned behind his sword.

Dante became a rocket when he pushed himself forward and flew straight at Phoenix. He barrel rolled once and jabbed out Rebellion, turning himself into a living arrow. Phoenix leaped out of his path and hoisted his massive blade over his head with one hand. He realized why the boy did a barrel roll when his sword clanged against Dante's. When he got to Phoenix's position, he was upside down, ready to defend against an attack from above.

"And here I thought he was trying to be flashy." Phoenix thought, amused.

The force of the attack, however, slammed Dante into the ground causing cracks on the pavement. The two locked swords, Dante pinned on the ground and Phoenix standing over him.

"You're quick, kid. But that's meaningless unless you have the power to actual hurt your opponent."

Dante wiped Phoenix's smug look off his face when his boot made contact with his nose. Phoenix backed up with a hand over his face. Dante flipped back to his feet, feeling pretty good for shutting the guy up.

However, Phoenix began to chuckle. "You're living up to the rumors I've heard about you. You actually hit me. It's been awhile since that happened."

"And I think it doesn't happen enough." Dante commented.

"Still mouthy though." Phoenix lowered his hand, revealing a busted, bloody nose that snapped itself back into place.

"So, you are a demon. And here I thought you were just a wacko with a sword."

Phoenix raised his sword. "A mere human could never wield Freya like me. And I've had plenty of time on this world to hone my skills. But fighting a son of the great Sparda? That should be a true test of my skills. That is if he had time to train you in the art of swordsmanship."

"What's to know?" Dante comically shrugged. "Pointy end goes into the other guy, seems simple enough."

"A comedian until the end." Phoenix said flatly.

At the opening of the alleyway, black vans skidded to a halt. The side doors slide open and men poured out with guns running up to the two demons.

"This isn't a spectator event." Phoenix spat. "We'll have to do this later in a more private place." He placed Freya on his back. "Don't get caught, now."

The assassin coiled his legs and sprang into the air, bounding over one of the buildings. Dante grimaced and slung his sword on his shoulder. Another demon to face? Why Abeona kept sending freaks his way was still beyond him. Assuming she was behind it.

The men came to a stop a few feet from him. Dante turned around to run off the other way, knowing full well that no one in the city could be as fast as him. However, another group of men came from the other end of the alleyway and boxed him in. Dante could see that they all wore suits, ruling out the police. Dante wondered if they were Feds or something since they had military issued weapons pointed at him.

"Drop the sword, kid." One of the men spoke.

"I have a better idea, why don't you make me?"

The man did not reply, but he and the rest of his goons kept their weapons trained on him. Dante looked up, wondering if he should try to make a jump like Phoenix. Getting busted now would have a rather adverse affect in business.

"Ease off, boys." A feminine voice called out. "Let's not frighten him off now."

A woman pushed past the men and casually walked up to Dante, blissfully ignoring the fact that she had placed herself between a gang of armed men and a young teen holding a sword. She was Asian, maybe in her twenties or thirties. She wore a charcoal woman's business suit with silver buttons. Her hair was held up by a large black clip. Her lips were cherry red with lipstick and her eyelids had cobalt eye shadow. Her all-knowing smile reminded Dante of Valentine.

"Dante, a pleasure to finally meet you." She held out a card.

Dante eyed the card for a moment before plucking it from her fingers. His eyes dance over the card quickly.

_Aileen Sung_

_Black Ice_

"My apologies from the show of force." She said. "But my superiors were unsure whether you would be friendly."

"Oh, yeah. I'm always in the best of moods when I got guns aimed at me." Dante sneered. "Turns me into a ray of fucking sunshine."

Aileen kept smiling at him. She was very lovely and had a mature charm to her, a fact that Dante's male senses picked up. But living with strippers that treated him like their personal cuddling toy made him grow a thick skin. His game face remained.

"I was wondering if you and I could have a little chat."

Dante's eyes darted from man to man, mentally taking note of their weapons, their positions, everything he needed to know when he made his big escape. The woman may have been acting slick, but Dante knew an ambush when he saw it. A little chat? She might as well come out and say that they were going to take him somewhere, put two in his head, and dump his body in the river. Of course, he was planning on giving them the biggest surprise of their lives.

Aileen took note of Dante's facial expression and eye movement, gave a small sigh, and raised her hand.

The men slowly pointed their weapons down, but kept a firm grip on them. Dante thought that they looked more than a little tense. A sneeze on his behalf would probably start a firefight.

"Don't worry. They won't do anything without my say so."

"I'm sure." Dante said flatly.

Dante raised Rebellion a bit then let it fall back on his shoulder, causing the men to flinch slightly. One of them gnashed his teeth together. Either they really wanted to kill him or they knew what he was capable of. They were controlling themselves now, but Dante figured they would not wait for Aileen to act if he did something suspicious.

Aileen's smile grew mischievous. "May I ask you for a favor?"

Dante's eyes went across the row of men again before he answered cautiously. "What do ya want?"

"May I touch your hair?"

Dante made a confused face. She sounded like a child asking for a new toy. Not something you would expect a professional looking woman to say.

"You don't get out much, do you?" Dante asked.

"I've never seen silver hair before. I just feel like touching it is all."

Dante looked the woman up and down. Like he mentioned before, he had grown a thick skin to a woman's teasing, but not immunity. With a frustrated groan, Dante turned his head. "Knock yourself out."

Aileen gently rang her fingers through Dante's locks with a pleased look on her face. The blush on Dante's cheeks could not overcome his grimace.

"It's soft." She said more to herself.

The girl's at the _Devil's Paradise _were enthralled with his hair. They loved to play with it. They even had a little system to take turns washing it. A girl would have her day to wash it however she wanted. At first, Dante opposed the idea. He could take care of himself. But he did not have the energy to fight the girls over it everyday and just gave up.

Aileen retracted her fingers. Dante ran a hand through his hair to straighten it out.

"Sorry about that." She said. "Now on to business."

"Oh, you have business?" Dante said in a mocking tone. "Here I thought you tracked me down and surrounded me with these clowns just to see what shampoo I use."

Aileen ignored Dante's remark. "Actually I'm here to discuss some things with you concerning your…occupation."

Dante caught on to her hidden meaning. She did not mean his mercenary work, but his Devil Hunter business.

Aileen looked around the battle torn alleyway for the first time. "Why don't we talk someplace with a more pleasant atmosphere?"

--

Phoenix's safe house was located in a busted down building once used as a bar. The interior was in disarray with portions of the ceiling hanging by a wire, walls with unknown stains, and cardboard boxes that turned the room into a sort of maze. Phoenix sat in an antique wooden chair with his feet up on a squat barrel that he used as a table. He wiped Freya with a white cloth. His long coat hung on a rack and multiple fire arms were scattered around the room with handguns and sub-machine guns on makeshift tables and rifles and rocket launchers propped up against the walls. An old portable radio sat next to his hat on the barrel and played classical music.

"The kid was good." Phoenix said to himself. "Next time, I'll have to pull out all the stops."

The lone overhead light bulb flickered. A sensation filled his senses. He laid Freya on his lap and plunged further in his chair.

"And who are you?" He asked.

A female figure stepped forward from the shadows.

"The Devil Warrior Phoenix." Abeona said. "I believe you and I should have a talk."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Summer vacation! Finally! But now I gotta get a choke _summer job_. Oh well, its not like I'm getting an 8 to 5, pressed shirt and tie, punch in, punch out, wanna blow my brains out, job. Hopefully it also means I can work on my fics a little more. NINJA GAIDEN 2 out soon!

Disclaimer: DMC owned by Capcom

**Devil May Cry: Genesis**

**Chapter 5**

When Dante entered the small bar/restaurant, he instantly thought of the rustic outdoors due to the wood-themed décor. The paneling on the walls and the booths were made of dark slabs of oak. Fake heads of deer and moose lined the walls like trophies. The only form of light came from overhead lights with stained glass fixtures. The place felt old, the sort of place that remained the same while everything around it changed. The place was almost empty except for a plump man in blue jeans and vest behind the bar with a receding hairline and a stubble beard. The man nodded in Dante's direction. He was not sure if it was directed at him or at the people behind him.

Aileen walked past him and headed for a booth at the far end of the bar. There was another person that he had missed sitting at the booth. He recognized the person's cobalt office shirt and shaggy dark hair. Kyle, his agent of sorts, sat at the booth with a half-emptied mug of golden beer in front of him. Dante wondered how many drinks the man had before he got there. Kyle was rather famous for his drinking habits. But then again, a lot of people in the underground were.

Aileen took a seat next to Kyle, leaving Dante the seat on the other side of the table. When he sat down, the other men that were with Aileen began to loiter around the bar. One stood besides Dante's seat, his hands clasped together in front of him.

"Hey, kid." Kyle said with a sort of goofy grin. "Don't know who you made friends with, but you got good tastes. Been getting' drinks on the house here thanks to you."

"They ain't my friends. And don't expect me to be your designated driver."

"I asked your acquaintance to be here for our little talk." Aileen offered.

The plump man came by the booth and placed a martini glass in front of Aileen. An olive floated in the clear liquid.

"Thank you, Mr. Richards." Aileen lifted the glass and let some of the liquid wash into her mouth.

Richards said nothing and left. He looked a bit nervous, though Dante had a feeling that Aileen's men, still armed, had something to do with it.

"Now then, Dante." Aileen spoke. "We've come to you with an offer of sorts."

"Really? And what do you have to offer me?" Dante said in an obvious bored tone.

"Do you know what I represent?"

"The People Who Annoy Me Club?"

"Try 'Black Ice', smartass." Kyle contributed. "And it would be wise to listen to them."

"'Black Ice'? Aren't they just hyped-up bodyguards?"

"We protect those from organized crime, true." Aileen mixed her drink with the small, ruby colored, plastic stirrer. "But that is just a side business for our real occupation."

"And what's that? Greeting cards?"

"Devil Hunting."

Dante blinked, caught unaware. Aileen said it like it was common knowledge.

"In truth, "Black Ice" is just one small front that is apart of a larger group, one that has been fighting off the demons for thousands of years. "Black Ice" was formed as cover, a mask if you will, for the outside world. Well, the underworld to be precise. No need to be the lead story on the 6 o'clock news. Makes it hard to do our job with all that media attention."

"And the bodyguard business?"

"It would be rather pointless if we were an assassination group. We're here to protect humanity. Rather counterproductive if we were killing those that we were trying to save. Although killing has come up more than once in our line of work, we try not to go overboard."

"I suppose."

Aileen put an elbow on the table and lowered her chin on the back of her hand. She eyed him shrewdly. "Dante, my superiors want you to work for them."

Dante smiled. "Well you can tell your superiors that they can sit on it and rotate. I don't work for guys who send armed goons after me. Now if you'll excuse me, Sapphire wants me to see her new dance, and I'd hate to keep her waiting."

Dante tried to stand, but the man next to him put his hand on his shoulder and shoved him back down.

"Ms. Sung ain't done with you yet, boy." The man said in contempt.

Dante did not even look at the man, instead he faced Aileen. "Tell your gorilla in the suit that if he manhandles me one more time, I'm gonna reach down his throat and turn him inside out."

Aileen looked at Dante for a moment then moved her hand in a shooing motion. The man sighed and left Dante's side.

"You'll have to forgive my men. They might feel a little…displeased about us playing nice with someone your age."

"Well, I'm not too crazy about them, either." Dante looked around the room again, this time focusing on the men that tried to meld with the room.

"You're a mercenary, correct? Think of this as a contract."

"I'm also picky about who I work for. Don't believe me? Ask the booze hound next to ya."

Kyle let out a small laugh. "He's stubborn too. Like a punk kid."

Aileen ignored the agent's remark and pressed on. "You will be well paid, Dante. You'll be making four to five times the amount you are now."

"Money doesn't work on him, either." Kyle answered for Dante. "Believe me, I've tried."

"Look, lady, I don't need your help with demons, okay?" Dante said. "They come to me. Don't know why, maybe it's my cologne."

"Actually, we were going to help you find some special demons as part of our deal."

"Special, huh?" Dante put an elbow on the table and rested his cheek in his hand with a genuinely amused look. "And what makes these demons 'special'? Do they sing and dance?"

"They're special to you, Dante." Aileen said in a mysterious tone. "They're the ones that killed your family."

The amused expression on Dante's face slowly changed into one usually reserved when someone makes a remark that cuts right into the bone.

"What?"

"Those that killed your family, Dante, we know who they are."

"How?" Dante ordered more than asked.

"We have our methods." Aileen said smoothly. "So, is it a deal?"

Kyle became nervous, uncomfortable at the developing situation. He had seen Dante miffed, even irritated before, but he never saw him as he was right then and there. Shocked and, most likely, pissed the hell off. The agent could swear that Dante was shaking with anger. Aileen definitely had hit a nerve. The worst part was that she had just rubbed a boy that could easily kill everyone in the room the wrong way. He wanted to say something to diffuse the situation, but he was used to sitting on the sidelines. Nobody ever gets in the middle of something that does not involve them. It was an unspoken rule of the underworld.

"Who are they?" Dante asked forcefully. "Where are they?"

"We know the 'who', just not the 'where'." Aileen took another drink. "Like I said, we'll help you find them in exchange-"

She cut herself off when the tip of Rebellion became pointed at her face. The men in the bar instantly snapped to attention, training there weapons on Dante. Richards dove under his bar. Kyle pushed himself against the wall as much as he could, even though he knew it was futile.

"Tell me. Now." Dante said, cold and angry.

"Drop the sword, kid! Or we drop you!" One of the men yelled, the same one that had pushed Dante back in his seat.

Aileen only eyed Dante with disappointment. "You can't always get what you want through force, Dante."

"And you can't always make people do what you want. Now tell me what I want to know before I really lose my temper and you really lose your head."

"I'm gonna count to three, kid!" The gunman yelled again. "If you don't drop the sword by then, we'll shoot! Don't make us kill you, kid!"

"Don't make me laugh." Dante replied cruelly. His kept his eyes locked with Aileen. "What makes you think you stand a chance?"

Aileen called out. "Lower your weapons."

The gunman gritted his teeth. "But, Ms. Sung-"

"Do it."

The gunman took a sharp inhale, held it for a moment, and then let it out slowly. He lowered the pistol in his hand, the rest followed suit.

"You too, Dante." She urged, unhappy with what was going on. "Put the sword away so we can continue."

"You bring this shit up and expect me to just sit here and smile? Well you're sadly fucking mistaken."

"Only a child gets worked up like this, Dante. Are you going to throw a tantrum when you hear something you don't like or are you going to grow up and calm down?"

Dante's face contorted into a snarl of frustration and anger. Aileen met his glare with a piercing look of determination and confidence. She was not going to be intimidated. The sword slowly lowered and then disappeared. Kyle heaved a sigh of relief.

"Good boy, Dante." Aileen loosened up a bit. "We're just here to talk."

"Oh, can it, babe." Dante plopped back into his seat. "Fine, you want me, you got me, but let's get one thing straight. When we find those fuckers, they're mine and no one else's. Got it?"

"Agreed." Aileen stated. "But for now let's move to current events, particularly the assassin that you've encountered."

"You mean that wacko with the hat? I can take him."

Kyle slammed his mug down after finishing it off. "Damn it, kid, you are so goddamn clueless. Do you know who Phoenix is? Do you even know how he got his nickname?"

"Cause 'Major Dickhead' was already taken by you?"

Kyle ignored the comment and glared at the kid. "He got it after surviving forty assassination attempts and living through more fights than anyone can count. No matter how many times he dies, he comes back."

"Sending assassins after an assassin? Doesn't make sense."

"Phoenix is the best in the bizz, plain and simple. He works exclusively for the Benzetti family. And like Benzetti, he's pissed off a lot of people. The Russians, the Chinese, everyone's tried to take him down, no one's succeeded. He's a pro and has one rule, no women or kids, though it seems he made an exception in your case."

"We'll I'm not your average kid." Dante smugly replied. "You also forgot that he's a demon, too."

Kyle blinked. "He is? Well, that does explain a lot."

"Not just a demon." Aileen added. "A Devil Warrior."

"A what?" Dante asked.

"Your father was a Dark Knight, the highest level of warrior demons there is. The title Devil Warrior is just underneath it."

"So he's good, but not great?"

"In a sense. He doesn't measure up to your father, but that doesn't mean he's weak. Far from it. In fact, I'm not sure you can defeat him."

"I think I was doing a pretty good job until you and your gaggle of jack-offs showed up."

"Perhaps. I don't like the fact that you're going from trash demons to someone like Phoenix so quickly. Something's not right."

Dante snorted. "Probably Abeona. Bitch has been making more work for me."

Aileen frowned. "Who?"

Dante gave a cocky smile. "You have your secrets, I have mine."

Aileen looked at Dante blankly before smiling herself. "Fair enough. Just remember, Dante, that Phoenix has been around a lot longer than you have. He has experience on his side."

"Good for him."

Aileen stood. "Be sure to win, Dante. I hate for our partnership to be over so quickly."

"I'll try to not disappoint you."

The Korean woman strolled out the bar with her men right behind her. A few shot Dante dirty looks before the left. Richards appeared out of nowhere and stood in front of them.

"Gonna have to ask you guys to leave. No offense, but I think I've had enough stress for today."

"You deal with those guys often?" Kyle asked.

"Every once in a while. They sometimes use my place for meetings and the like. First time I've seen the Asian chick, though."

"There's a million places to choose from, why do they come here?"

"I got some…history with them, look just leave, please? And you, kid, you need to lighten up or you won't live long in this city."

"I ask for your opinion, fatso?" Dante got up and grabbed Rebellion. "I'm outta here."

Both men watched the boy skulk out of the bar. Richards waited till he was sure the boy was too far away to hear.

"What's up with that kid?"

"He's just touchy about his family. Who isn't? But that Aileen gal, she's something else."

"She's a pretty girl, but too weird for my tastes."

"That look in her eyes, I've seen it before, in hardcore mercs and veteran assassins. She's seen some things, things no one wants to see." Kyle retrieved a crumpled pack of smokes from his breast pocket. He pulled out a cheap red lighter and a cigarette from the pack. "And the way those flunkies obey her despite their better judgment. She's no ordinary woman."

Kyle lit the cigarette and returned the pack into his pocket. "I have a feeling that things are gonna get hectic soon."

--

"A talk?" Phoenix laughed. "And who might you be?"

"Abeona." The voice echoed in his head. "You and I have much to discuss."

"Do we, now?" Phoenix ran a hand across his sword, Freya. "I heard Dante speak your name when he was confronted by that stone demon. You two must be friends."

"Partners is the better term." Abeona corrected.

"I see. Now what is it you want?" Phoenix lifted a bottle by his chair. "Wine?"

"No, thank you. What I want is for you to hold off on your fight with Dante."

"I'm afraid that's not up to you. You see, I'm under contract with a very rich and powerful man. He's throwing a lot of paper my way to get rid of the brat. Besides, I've been bored with my past targets. Too easy. The son of Sparda could prove to be the chance to truly test my abilities."

"Not if you face him as he is now." Abeona warned. "He needs more time before he can face you as equals."

"Time is not something I have much of. The Don is rather impatient with this boy. The quicker I kill him, the sooner he quits barking at me and I get paid."

A laugh rattled around in his head. "Am I hearing this right? A demon subservient to a human? How far you've fallen, Devil Warrior."

"Times have changed, woman. If I want to survive in the human world, I must adapt." Phoenix lethargically stood, like someone who just woke up. "We all can't hide in the shadows."

Freya was in his grasp, but he held it loosely. Abeona knew that the demon could use the large weapon in an instant. But it did not matter. He could not hurt her.

"You're right." Abeona admitted. "The time of demons assaulting human fortresses and controlling lands has passed. But that does not mean that you have to shed your demon pride."

"My demon pride? What about your demon pride? Allying yourself with the son of a traitor." Phoenix chuckled. "You've got no right to question me."

The lights flickered again. Phoenix's form changed when the darkness came. Something with bird-like wings, shiny armor, and a helmet shaped like the head of a bird of prey. When the light filled the room for a brief second, the form reverted back into the business attired assassin. The flickering stopped.

"I have plans for that boy, Phoenix. They will not be destroyed by one who is inferior compared to the 'traitor' you spoke of."

The Demon Warrior shot forward and cleaved the form in two. The two halves dissolved into a fine mist before they hit the floor.

"Felt like I cut air." Phoenix mused. "A shadow?"

The mist reformed itself into the female form.

"So you hide_ and_ you send out shadows of yourself." Phoenix twirled the sword once and let the tip rest on the ground. "You're nothing but a coward, woman."

"What you call cowardice, I call tactics." Abeona calmly replied. "After all, you can't kill what is not in front of you."

"But I can ignore you." Phoenix walked back to his chair and melted into it. "Besides, a shadow does not have the power to hurt someone like me."

"Listen to me well, Phoenix. Give Dante more time. It'll be worth your while."

The form evaporated. Phoenix seemed lost in thought for a brief moment before he growled, shook it off, and plucked the wine bottle from the floor.

"More time, huh?" Phoenix guzzled down the liquor. "Sorry, woman, but Dante's time ran out long ago."

--

"…and this Ms. Sung? She wants you to work for Black Ice?"

Dante nodded. Valentine tapped some ash off her cigarette. The _Devil's Paradise_ was closed until tomorrow night, many of the girls left for their homes, but Diamond and Fifi had stayed behind. Nick scrubbed the top of the bar. He listened in on the conversation like any good bartender, but made it look like he was not.

"So Black Ice actually hunts demons?" Fifi said around her chocolate sundae. "Here I thought our Dante was the only one."

"More importantly, though," Diamond smirked, "is that Dante found himself a girlfriend. An older one, too. Lucky."

"That's not true!" Fifi was horrified. "They only spoke once. And I don't like her at all. She sounds like a manipulative bitch to me."

"She is." Dante added with a dull, angered tone.

"You haven't even met her, Fifi." Diamond replied, ignoring Dante's remark. "Besides, any woman worth her salt knows when to use anything to her advantage."

"That's not true! I'm a woman and I would never do something so vile!"

"Then that means you're still a girl at heart." Diamond leveled her gaze. "Wait a minute, I know what's goin' on. You're afraid that Korean woman's gonna steal Dante away."

"And you're not?" Fifi exclaimed. "He's our boy! We found him first!"

"I don't belong to you!" Dante interrupted. "Besides, that woman ain't my type. She gets under my skin."

Diamond eyed him while she raised her long island ice tea to her lips. "But I bet you wouldn't mind if she got under your bed sheets."

Dante snarled. When he first came to the _Devil's Paradise_, he thought he would be living the sweet life, surrounded by beautiful, half-naked women. He quickly learned that his dream was a nightmare in disguise. They loved to tease him because of his looks and age, but that was as far as it went. He tried flirting, but it never went anywhere. He was living in a house full of women who loved him, but never went 'all the way' with him. For someone raging with teenage hormones, it was a slow torture. He felt disgusted with himself sometimes over his thoughts, but he was a teenager, so thinking about and trying to get sex was only normal, right?

"Black Ice is a group not to be taken lightly, Dante." Valentine took a long drag from her cigarette and let out a thin cloud over her head. "If they're as good dealing with demons as they are with the mob, then you may have made the right choice to work for them."

"I noticed that you used the words 'may have'." Dante pointed out. "If they're demon hunters, what's gonna stop them from turning their sights on me when they're done with me?"

"You're different, Dante, and they know it." Valentine knocked more ash into her ash tray. "Besides, it's not such a bad thing to have powerful friends on your side."

"You're starting to sound like Kyle." Dante muttered. In a brief moment, his muscles tightened. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

"Something wrong, hun?" Valentine caught the sudden change in Dante.

"Nah, it's nuthin'." Dante grabbed Rebellion, turned on his stool, and hopped off. "Think I'll go for a walk."

"I know you, Dante." Valentine pressed on. "You don't just 'go for a walk'. What's wrong?"

"I jus' wanna go for a damn walk!" Dante yelled as he opened the front door. "Jesus, can't a guy do something without gettin' cross-examined?!"

Dante's form disappeared when the heavy wooden door slammed shut, causing Fifi and Diamond to jump slightly. No one spoke. The three females looked at the door like Dante was still in front of it. Nick busied himself with other tasks, knowing that he should not be commenting.

"What's up his ass?" Diamond frowned and swirled her drink.

"He was never this angry before." Fifi looked beyond concerned. "What should we do?"

"Just leave him be." Valentine assured. "Boys need their space every now and then."

The women nodded and returned to their drinks and food. Valentine looked down at the table when she took another drag. She had not seen Dante so bothered before either. She hoped it was just teenage moodiness, but something inside her knew better. Something must have happened to have him on eggshells like that.

--

Dante did not know where he was going, only that he was going somewhere. He followed the feeling, the soul-crushing darkness that had a danced ahead of him, drawing him to it. He walked down alleyways and streets that he never saw before despite his year long stay in the city. He passed buildings that were made during the 1950s and showed their age. Eye-aching neon signs advertised cheap bars, ratty tattoo parlors, and sleazy skin bars. Further down the line, some stores abandoned any form of advertising, which Dante learned was their way of saying that customers who come in should not talk about what was going on inside. The people he passed would not look at him, even though he was a fifteen year old boy wearing a red coat and carrying a sword as long as him. But then again, people who frequent the side of town he was in tended to know better than to stare at other people, no matter how ridiculous or odd they may be.

He came to a small group of prostitutes in scantily clothes that were designed to be taken off and put back on quickly and with ease. Most of them watched him pass with uncertain and mindful gazes. One of them, however, followed Dante's movements with amusement. When he was about to pass them, the woman stepped forward.

"Hey, there, cutie." The woman snickered. "Need someone to tuck ya in and tell ya a bedtime story?"

Dante kept walking, not even acknowledging her existence. He hated condescending women like her. The woman became angered.

"What you ignoring me for? You think you're better than me, ya piece of-"

The woman was cut off by a car horn. A black limousine suddenly appeared from no where. It looked sleek and shiny, brand new, a stark contrast to its decrepit and rotting surroundings. People took note of the car, after all, the only thing that rolled down the pebble laced streets were beater cars and police cruisers. The car moved slowly and caught up with Dante, the smoked tinted window slide down revealing the face of a woman, one with a seductive amount of makeup on. Her eyes instantly made contact with Dante's.

"You there." The woman in the limo called. "Come here."

"Sorry, lady." Dante shrugged her off. "I don't do that type of work."

"No, no. You misunderstand." She said smoothly. "I'm here to pick you up."

"For what? Soccer practice?" Dante kept walking, but the limo kept pace.

"Someone went to the trouble to hire me and this limo to get you." The woman pressured. "It would be rude to decline."

"I'm sorry, but you've mistaken me for someone who gives a flying fuck."

"He said that he wants to continue where you two left off. To finish what was started."

Dante came to a halt. The limo driver reacted a slit second later, stopping next to him.

"And just who is 'he'?" Dante knew whom the woman was talking about, but he wanted to be sure.

"Never gave us a name. Just said that you'd know who it was." The woman answered honestly.

Dante stood for a moment, thinking it over, before he shrugged and walked over to the waiting limousine. The woman scooted over to give him a seat. He pulled open the door and got in.

"Isabel." The woman said as the limo pulled away. "My name is Isabel. And you are?"

"What? You came here to get me and you don't know my name?"

"The man that paid us only told me where you'd be, when you'd be there, and what you'd be wearing. No names were given. My business values discretion."

"Just what is 'your business'?" Dante eyed the woman.

Isabel was dressed in an expensive looking black and silver night dress with a very low cut neckline that exposed her ample bust. Her curly blonde hair trailed past her shoulders blades. Piercing blue eyes looked into his soul. Calling her attractive would have been an understatement. But there was something…off with her that caused Dante to be cautious.

"I suppose you can call me a 'professional companion'." Isabel raised a champagne glass filled with bubbly, light maple liquid. Her perfectly manicured nails were glossed and reflected the dimmed light inside the moving car.

"You're a hooker?"

Isabel looked up for a split second, thinking. "I've been called worse, but that's one of the titles that comes with the job." She sipped some of the champagne with the grace of a well groomed politician. "What do you do, Mr…?"

"Dante." The boy looked over the innards of the car. Leather seats, a mini-bar, a small television screen, and a high class whore. Phoenix was going all out to grab his attention. "I'm a 'problem solver'. Some people have problems and I solve 'em."

"With that sword?" Isabel cocked an eyebrow at the aforementioned weapon that lay on the other seats along the side windows.

"If it comes to it." Dante shifted his weight. The woman was making him uncomfortable and he did not know why.

"I must say, this is rather odd for me, having to 'entertain' someone so….young." She gave a small laugh. "But it could be worse. After all, my job isn't a career you write on a resume, so I'm not too worried about breaking certain laws."

She had discretely moved herself closer. Dante noticed but pretended not to. It was pissing him off that he was with a gorgeous woman who had been paid to be with him, and his damn head was ringing alarm bells.

"Where we goin'?" Dante looked out the window, watching as people and places flashed by.

"Dunno." Isabel said with none of her seductive charm. "Obviously the driver knows, but nobody's told me. It doesn't matter, I suppose. When you get dropped off, I get taken back to the brothel. But I've been told that it'll be awhile before we get there. Two hour drive." The charm came back. "So we've got plenty of time to get to know one another."

"Sounds good." Dante played along.

He tensed when her hand came in contact with his hair. "Odd color hair you got there, sweetie. Is it natural?"

"You wanna find out?"

"Slow down, honey, we got more than enough time." She whispered back. "And don't worry about the driver. Soundproof and tinted glass."

Isabel had come very close, practically leaning into him. He could feel the heat radiating off her. She was slow and deliberate with her movements. Like a painter, everything she did was part of her masterpiece. Her nose brushed against his for a brief moment. She smelt like fragrant soap. Her hand slid up his arm over his coat and up to his face.

"I love the coat." She spoke sweetly into Dante's ear. 'Where'd you get it?"

"Some friends got it for me." He replied with a hushed tone. "Birthday present when I turned fifteen."

Isabel dropped her head and chuckled lightly. "Let's not talk about age or I'll feel like I'm robbing the cradle."

She raised her sights back to Dante and resumed where she left off. She snuggled against him, running her hands across his back, underneath his coat. Her lips made contact with his, but only lightly, leaving a lingering feeling in Dante's, making him want to make an actual kiss.

"You're pretty affectionate for a working girl." Dante said, amused.

"I'm not some hussy that can only spread her legs." Isabel nibbled on Dante's ear. "I know the finer art of seduction…and a few other things."

She helped him ease off his coat. Dante's head was swimming. He felt emotions clogging up his gears of thought and rationality. Her hands touched all the right places in the right way. He raised a hand to touch her cheek.

"Careful." She said. "Make-up. Don't wanna ruin it too much."

Finally her lips pressed against his. Then she opened her mouth, slipping her tongue in. Dante let her guide him as he was still not fully experienced in the act. She gently pushed him into a reclining position on the leather seat. Her hand ran up his stomach, pushing up his shirt.

The bells in his head turned into full blown air raid sirens. His senses and instincts were screaming at him that not only was danger nearby, but it was about to fall on top of his head.

Dante pushed the woman off him, seized his sword, and pointed it at her throat. Both Dante and Isabel exchanged bewildered glances. Dante panted for breath, getting over his worked up hormones. He noticed a subtle but noticeable change in Isabel. Her blue eyes had turned ruby red.

Dante smiled. "You're more than just a top quality trick." His chest heaved with every word. "Aren't ya, demon."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: When's the third Devil May Cry 3 manga coming out? It's driving me nuts.

Disclaimer: DMC owned by Capcom

**Devil May Cry: Genesis**

**Chapter 6**

Isabel wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled, staring down Dante over the long blade pointed at her throat. She seemed confident, defiant, like she assumed that Dante's threat against her life was a bluff. The demoness was not aware that Dante never bluffed against demons.

"If you wanted it rough, all you had to do was ask, sweetness." Isabel arched an eyebrow suggestively.

"You workin' with Phoenix? This supposed to be a trap?" Dante pushed the blade further, making it press against her peach colored skin. "Cause if it is, I'm gonna see if your insides are as pretty as your outsides."

No answer came. Instead, Isabel lowered her eyes to Dante's sword and placed a finger on Rebellion, tracing its sharp edge. "This sword, I smell death on it. Many lives were taken with this. How curious though, that only the sorrow of demons covers this blade. There's not a single drop of human blood on it. Odd, considering that you yourself are a demon."

Dante frowned. He felt rather stupid trying to stand imposingly over her with the low ceiling of the limo forcing him to do a combination of bending over and crouching.

"Oh, excuse me. A half demon. I mistook the human smell on you as just you're prolonged exposure to them. Sometimes Phoenix has the same problem."

"So you do know him." Dante said. "You're a good actor. I almost believed your whole 'I don't know nothin' defense. So tell me, are you his main squeeze or somethin'?"

"There really isn't a title you could put on us. Sometimes we enjoy each others…company. Sometimes we meet for business. We demons need to stick together in these trying times."

"I hardly consider demons to be team players." Dante twisted the sword, causing a single droplet of blood to slowly ooze down her neck. "Now, what's this all about?"

During the discussion, Isabel had let her finger go up and down Rebellion in slow, sensual gestures. When her hand reached as close to the hilt of the sword as she could, she suddenly flicked her fingers at him, like she was trying to get water off her hand. A pinkish powder shot out, hitting Dante in the face. He squeezed his eyes shut and snapped his head back, like he had been punched. He wiped his face and spat. It stung like pepper, but no sneezing reaction came.

"What the fuck was…was…" Dante instantly felt lethargic. He could not feel his arms and legs. He attempted to keep his balance but gave up and let himself flop into the seat behind him. His hand maintained a death grip on his sword, but his arm felt disconnected, out of order. He slouched, almost falling over on his side. His brain short circuited. He could feel, but thinking was like trying to slosh through ankle deep mud. When he told his body to do something, it responded by staying inert.

Isabel crawled on top of him, smiling, gloating. She ran her finger up her neck, soaking the thin trail of dark red. The finger was then plunged into her mouth, the wound already gone. "That was the first time someone's made me bleed in over two centuries." She licked her finger and then used it to trace to outline of Dante's lips. "I believe that's worth something."

Dante blinked, fighting to keep awake.

"Demons come in all shapes and sizes, Dante. Some feed off flesh, some don't eat at all. Me? I get my nourishment from the essence of men." She smoothed his hair. "I get men excited, passionate, aroused to the point of their ultimate climax, and then," She snapped her fingers. "I don't kill them. I could get away with one or two, but no one can hide a trail of bodies for as long as I've been around. Besides, dead clients tend to get a girl branded." Her breath tickled Dante's face when she leaned closer. She spoke more intimately. "According to my customers, it's the best feeling, better than actual sex. We both leave happy. It's the perfect crime."

She tapped his nose like a child. "But you're probably wondering more about what I just did to you. I may be a demon, but my power doesn't come from physical strength. I have little tricks, ways to protect myself and capture my prey. I can release certain powders from under my nails." One of her hands came in front of Dante's face. Her perfectly manicured nails inches from his eyes. "I prefer aphrodisiacs. I can get any man I want, instead of waiting for disgusting ones to come to me. But today I went with a sedative type. Phoenix told me you can be a bit rambunctious."

Dante's hand slapped against hers, gripping it like a vice. Isabel gasped, jolted back. Dante strained every muscle in his body and tried to sit up. He learned that she could perform her parlor trick with both hands as a second pink cloud struck him. Dante coughed, sputtered, and shook his head. The numbness was cranked up a notch. He could not even feel his clothes. He slumped back into his seat with the grace of a corpse

"Amazing." Isabel whispered. "Normally, someone shouldn't be able to lift their little finger after one shot. But, then again, I never tried it on another demon before."

The sleep that he fought against became nuclear armed. He could feel the consciousness fluttering away.

"Phoenix might be a killer nowadays, but back then, he was a proud warrior. He still has his honor. Which is why he went to such trouble to bring you to him. A place where you two can fight to your heart's content. One on one." She leaned against him, getting herself comfortable. "But, he thought it would be tragic if he killed you without you knowing the touch of a woman. Too bad you had to be naughty." She shrugged. "Oh well. You'll just have to rest the entire trip. And don't worry about any side effects. When you wake up, you'll be right as rain." She snaked her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. "I'll keep you warm. Hate for you to catch a cold."

Dante mouthed the words 'Get off me, bitch' to no avail and slipped into the warm embrace of sleep.

--

Dante shot up and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. He twisted his head around, gathering information to formulate where the hell he was. His memory came roaring back: the mindless walking, the hot babe in the limo, the hot babe turning into a demon, her version of a night cap, and now this. He moved his body around, seeing if there was anything a miss. His joints, muscles, and bones felt fine. She had been right, he felt fine, better than fine. He felt like he just woke up from a good night's sleep.

The demoness was gone. He could not feel the vibrations of a moving vehicle, leading him to conclude that he had arrived at wherever the hell he was supposed to go. Rebellion lay beside him, propped against the leather seat with care. He grabbed its hilt just as the car door popped open.

"We're here, sir." A voice called from nearby.

Dante carefully got out, expecting a trap. The limousine was parked in the center of a junkyard. He was surrounded by mini skyscrapers of scraped cars and trucks. The wrecking equipment and vehicles stood silent, dead. Further down he saw unorganized heaps of mangled machines and broken parts. Tire tracks from large wheeled vehicles criss crossed the dirt. Floodlights on thick poles of pure oak lit up the area with tiny winged insects swarming near the base of the industrial, high powered light bulbs. It was pure dark outside the junkyard, the stars blotted out by the lights.

The voice that called him out was the limo driver. The man stood attentive and crisp, one hand on the latch of the door. His uniform was too formal, black and pressed, brass buttons and white gloves. The black, shiny brim of his driver's cap shielded his eyes. The only notable characteristic was his thin mustache. Dante could not tell if the man was human or another demon. His senses did not flare up, but that only meant either the man was human or a demon too weak to cause harm.

"Finally up? I was afraid that I used too much." Isabel stood a few yards away, snug in a short grey and brown mink coat. "You ready?"

Dante slugged his sword over his shoulder. "Always."

"Follow me then." She turned and began walking further into the junkyard.

The walk was not far, pillars of cars still surrounded them. The entire place was deserted of any form of life. Even the insects seemed to steer clear of the area he and the demoness entered.

"This is the place." Isabel announced and turned to face Dante. "I'll leave you now. If you win, we'll be waiting to take you home."

Dante recognized the light hearted tone in her voice. She had no expectation of him actually winning. But Dante did not care, although if they took off without him, he would have a hard time finding his own way back home. She bent down, gave him a peck on the cheek, and went back the way they came.

"Good luck." She called from behind him. He listened as her footsteps grew softer before disappearing altogether.

Things were too quiet, too calm. There were hardly any sounds, no animals scurrying, no junk yard dogs barking, no buzzing of bugs, no rumbling of engines, not even wind, just the hum of the flood lights. It made Dante uncomfortable. He was used to the mindless drone of the city. He was out of his element, alone in someone else's backyard. If Phoenix used the junkyard before, he had the home field advantage. Dante brushed off the feeling.

"Scared?"

Dante looked up. Phoenix stood on one of the taller pillars of cars. His sword, Freya, was planted into the crushed rooftop of what once was a green 1970's sedan. A floodlight hit his back, creating the illusion that he was made of pure blackness. Dante put his hand up as a shield and squinted.

"Me? Scared?" Dante chuckled. "Nah. Just anxious to put your ass in the ground and go home. It's almost past my bedtime."

"Did Isabel treat you well? I hope you two got along."

"You mean your love toy? Not my type. I prefer my woman not to be spawn from hell. Call me picky."

"Your loss." Phoenix yanked Freya free and pointed it at Dante. "Have you made your peace yet?"

"You know what's best about you arrogant guys is? The face you make when I break ya in two."

Dante expected a dramatic stare down, but the lights made it impossible to see Phoenix's face. Instead, the assassin acted, jumping off the car tower and coming down on Dante like a dive bomber. Freya flashed, leaving behind a trail of light behind it. Dante recognized the attack, the same one used to lop off Razakel's arm. Dante flipped away just as Phoenix struck, splitting the earth open. Once he got to his feet, Dante preformed a move he called The Stinger. He rocketed forward, sliding along the ground, and stabbed his sword at his opponent. Phoenix, however, was faster than Dante had predicted. The Devil Warrior had already out of the path of the attack. Fast, but not fast enough, Phoenix was still too close to Dante, leaving no room to use his sword properly. Like a true warrior, Phoenix was not limited to one weapon and struck Dante with a left hook. Dante spun from the hit and used the momentum to slash his sword in a surprise attack. Phoenix parried the attack easily.

Both combatants backed off. Phoenix tightened the fist he used to strike Dante, cracking the small bones in his hand. It appeared that Phoenix wore his sunglasses during the night as well.

Dante knew that this was not going to be a fight he could breeze through like all the others, but that did not mean he was not prepared. In fact he had counted on a certain detail that he had picked up about Phoenix. He was killing humans only, which meant that while the Devil Warrior was busy killing nobody's for cash, Dante was honing his skills against things that were a bit tougher than some goon with a gun.

Still, Phoenix was around for a few centuries. That had to amount to something.

Phoenix was suddenly upon him, Freya already in motion. Dante reacted, exchanging numerous sword swipes and parries in a matter of moments. Phoenix snuck a kick in, connecting with Dante's stomach. A second, more powerful kick sent Dante into one of the car pillars. Dante managed to stay on his feet. Again, Phoenix had Dante dead in his sights, swinging his sword with the force of a cyclone. Rebellion became a shield and took the attack straight on, flinging Dante back into the pillar.

The pillar swayed, groaned and creaked, and finally fell over. Phoenix was out of the hazard area in an instant. Dante rolled away, with a mere nano-second to spare. Flattened cars cascaded down like toys falling out of a toddler's grasp. A wide, flat heap of obsolete and crappy cars, trucks, and vans stood between the two demons as a buffer. Both of them knew that none of their abilities would be affected by it.

"Is this it?" Phoenix yelled. "Is this all the son of Sparda has to offer?"

"I was about to say the same thing to you." Dante replied. "If all you can land is a love tap here and there, then coming here was a waste."

"Ah, the wise cracks. I already know your attacks, Dante. You're too brash, too wild. No technique at all."

"It's my style, man. Not that you know anything about style."

Phoenix shook his head disappointedly and leveled Freya at Dante. Accepting the invitation, Dante launched himself at the assassin. Bounding over the cars like a ninja hopping across the calm surface of a lake, he slashed at Phoenix. Freya clanged against Rebellion, causing blue-ish sparks that sprayed wildly into the night and cast surreal flickers. Dante landed behind the Devil Warrior and lashed out again. Another rapid fire volley of sword exchanges ensued. At first, Dante was about to move his head out of the way of a fist he saw Phoenix form, but something deep inside warned him that it was not the real threat.

A kick stabbed the air, missing Dante who spun out of the danger zone. He completed his spin by stabbing his sword into Phoenix's gut. The blade ruptured out his back. Phoenix gagged in surprise, blood bursting from his mouth. In one swift move, Dante placed his black Doc Martin on Phoenix's chest and pushed off, completing two objectives. One, ripping his sword out of his opponent before he could retaliate and two, using the strength of his push, putting a flying leap's worth of distance between them.

With the sword gone, Phoenix doubled over in pain, grasping his chest. Dante glanced at his sword, seeing it covered in blood, demon blood. Isabel had been right, not once had he claimed the life of a human and he would be damned if that would change. His beef was with demon kind, not man.

A roar of gunfire drew his complete attention. Things tore into his body, pain overwhelmed his senses. He fell on one knee, gasping, panting. Small holes had appeared on his shirt. Phoenix, back in an upright posture, held a smoking Mac-11 sub machine gun. The black vest had a fresh tear from Rebellion, a few centimeters from his heart.

"Close, boy." Phoenix half-smiled. "But close doesn't cut it."

The stinging pain vanished, Dante's healing kicked into full gear. He stood back up.

"I saw that regular bullets don't work too well on you, so I came with something different." Phoenix rearranged his fingering on the handle to secure it better. "Hollow-point rounds. Leave exit wounds the size of grape fruits. Probably won't kill ya by themselves, but I'm betting that it hurts like hellfire."

"I've had worse." Dante said like he was insulted at the idea of being injured so easily.

Another burst came from the gun. Dante darted away and ran up a pillar of cars, bounding up and over the top to put himself on the other side, out of the line of fire. A few stray rounds managed to connect, but they did not slow him down. Dante planted his back against the pillar, catching his breath.

The sword fight had become a gun battle, leaving Dante with a bit of a predicament. Guns were something Dante had little experience with, aside from getting shot with them. He had used a gun before, during a job that involved clearing out a drug lord's cocaine lab. The job went south fast, there were more guards than his client told him, all armed to the teeth. He managed to snag a dropped knock off version of a Russian pistol and planned to fire off a few shots. Unfortunately, tense as he was, the gun crumbled in his hand. Human guns were not designed to be held by the super human strength of a demon.

Phoenix seemed able to apply a gentler touch with the projectile weapons.

Something landed on the pillar. Dante snapped his head up to see Phoenix looking down on him, the Mac-11 at the ready. However, instead of opening up, Phoenix had to take a step back and arch himself away before the point of Rebellion skewered his head. Dante had thrown the weapon to buy time, now he had to act. In an instant, Dante scaled the pillar with a few strategic jumps, and grabbed hold of Phoenix's gun arm at the wrist, obstructing the assassin's ability to aim. With one punch the gun shattered like a cheap plastic toy.

Another gun emerged from Phoenix's coat, a revolver, Smith & Wesson, .44 caliber. He grabbed Dante by his neck and jammed the large barrel into his stomach. Without thinking, Dante had jabbed his thumb at the hammer, holding it back so the gun could not discharge. His other hand shot out and hit Phoenix in the throat, knocking in his Adam's apple. With his air passage way blocked, Phoenix held his throat, choking. With the revolver in his possession, Dante turned it on his enemy and fired. One shot struck Phoenix's shoulder, the other in his chest. By the third shot, Dante squeezed the trigger too tightly, pulling the trigger mechanism loose, ruining the gun.

The gun was released and fell from the pillar. Freya almost cleaved Dante had he not jumped off the pillar. It appeared Phoenix's disability was only temporary. Landing back onto dirt, Dante did a quick scan of the area, trying to spot his sword. He lost track of it after throwing it, absorbed in something a bit more pressing. The 'snapping his fingers' trick would not work, he needed to know where the sword was in order for it to return to him.

Phoenix plummeted like a meteor and kicked up a curtain of dust when he struck dirt. Emerging from the cloud in a deliberately slow pace, the assassin held his sword off to the side, the half-moon tip barely an inch from the ground.

The fight had gone from bad, to about even, before it plummeted to worse case scenario. Phoenix came with more than one weapon. Dante, on the other hand, only had his sword which at that current moment in time was unavailable. He was unarmed, and worse yet, clueless on what to do next.

So he took off. Some people might have called it cowardice, but only an idiot would fight someone with a sword and who knew how many guns with their bare hands. Besides, he was not running away, he needed to find his sword.

Whether Phoenix was chasing him or not he did not know, he never looked back. He bounded over a pillar, and then began weaving between them to keep low to the ground. The floodlights above were eclipsed by the tall, raggedy towers of cars and only shined unto Dante between the vertical gaps of two separate towers.

After rounding a car pillar, Dante screeched to a halt. A large fence made of upright, thick, dark wooden planks blocked his path. The planks were easily over eight feet tall and topped with spirals of barbed wire. At first, Dante thought about hopping over the fence, but if his hunch was right about the place, it was in the middle of fucking nowhere and the last thing he needed to do was get himself lost.

Something rammed him from behind, sending him through the fence like a canon ball. Dante rolled on to his back. His hunch was right. Outside was a rolling plain of shrubs and desert sand. The dark peaks of mountain tops were barely visible along the horizon. There were no roads, signs, or anything that resembled civilization anywhere he could see. The limousine would be his only ticket home.

One he would win.

"Running away is what children do when they start losing a fight." Phoenix stepped through the hole Dante's body made. "But, then again, you are a child."

He seized Dante by his hair, hoisted him off his feet, and slammed him back in the dirt with bone crushing force.

"Still, your father would spin in his grave if he saw you like this." Phoenix pulled Dante back up.

Dante answered him by kicking him squarely in the crotch. No matter how powerful a man or demon was, a nut shot always brought them down.

To Phoenix's credit, he did not scream like a little girl. Instead he made a shallow grunt. His knees almost buckled, but the assassin did not falter, nor did he let go. If Phoenix was only irritated with Dante before, he had to be flown blown pissed by then. With a fiery yell, Phoenix spun Dante around twice before tossing him into the air.

If Phoenix ever played baseball, he could put holes into the other team, literally. He might as well have stuffed Dante into an artillery cannon and blasted him back into the junkyard. The pillars of cars whizzed bellow him. The wind whistled through Dante's ears. He twisted his body with the wind, righting himself so he had a chance of landing on his feet instead of headfirst into a hunk of steel that was once an automobile.

He succeeded, both of his feet touched down. The force, however, kept him going. He tumbled along the ground before switching to a stance resembling a baseball player sliding into home plate. Lose dirt and pebbles went up his pant legs. He stood and brushed himself off.

He was back in the center of the junkyard. In fact, the pillar where he wrestled the revolver away from Phoenix stood in front of him. And on the top of the pillar was Rebellion, pierced in the top car like a flag on top of a mountain. It must have come back down after Dante made a break for it.

Soon, Dante had his sword back into his hand with a snap of his fingers. He turned around to see Freya a foot from his face and closing. With gritted teeth, Dante brought Rebellion up just in time to deflect the blade. A few things rushed through Dante's mind. One, Phoenix seemed to have the ability to mask his presence to Dante. That was the second time the assassin had sneaked up on him without his senses picking him up. Two, he had relaxed his grip on Rebellion as he thought he had more time to think before he had to make himself battle ready. And three, he was right again, Phoenix looked down right furious.

Rebellion spun away from Dante and planted itself in the dirt, too far away to make a dive for. Without waiting for Phoenix's next move, Dante charged him. He changed his mind quickly when he stared down the barrel of another, larger gun in Phoenix's clutches. Dante stopped and fell away in one motion when the gun fired. The projectile whizzed above Dante's head. The gun was a shotgun, a Remington with the barrel and the stock sawed off to make it smaller and easier to carry. Phoenix pumped the gun, sending a lone, red, spent shell spinning away and pointed it, one handed, at Dante who was still on the ground.

"Now, you die." Phoenix growled.

"Ah, you're not mad about the boot to your grapes, are ya?" Dante smiled. "I think one of them got squashed. I'm sure it's healed by now, although it might sting for a few days when ya piss."

Phoenix snarled and squeezed the trigger. Dante leg popped up and knocked the gun barrel at a different target. The pillar behind him was peppered harmlessly. Dante sprung up, ducked a punch, and rammed his head into Phoenix's gut. The Devil Warrior flew back a few feet with a surprised yell, releasing the scatter gun from his grip.

Dante snapped his fingers. Rebellion vibrated, working itself loose form the ground and spun back to Dante's hand. The assassin was on his feet already, Freya in hand.

A tense moment ticked by, both combatants frozen in place, staring each other down, daring the other to make the first move. Phoenix took a page from Dante's playbook and threw his sword. It also appeared that Phoenix had his own spin to the move. Dante had thrown his blade like a spear. Phoenix turned Freya into a buzz saw. The large sword shredded the ground under it, leaving a jagged gash, as it raced at Dante.

Dante rolled out of its path. Just as he returned to his feet, Phoenix was there, in front of him, with a kick in delivery, just as Dante predicted. The Remington Dante scooped up was pressed onto Phoenix's chest and unloaded a 12-gauge round. Phoenix flopped on his back, clutching the bloody pulp that was once his rib cage. His hat rolled along the ground like a loose coin before it tipped itself over.

Before Dante pumped the shotgun, he remembered his past experience with using guns, and carefully put a fresh shell in the chamber.

Phoenix propped himself up on an elbow, coughing and sputtering, forcing himself to breath. Blood flowed out of his mouth. A cough became a pain filled chuckle before turning into a full blown laugh.

"I don't…believe it." Phoenix smiled with blood stained teeth. "Either you're…a lot better…than I thought…or you have…the Devil's luck."

"I like to think it's a little of both." Dante raised the shotgun.

Phoenix slowly stood, securing his footing so not to fall over. He still held on to his chest. "How 'bout…we kick things up…a notch?"

The sunglasses came off by a shaky hand, revealing fiery orange eyes. In a flash of fire, Phoenix was replaced with another figure, his true form. It was larger, almost twice Phoenix's human form. Its armor was brightly hued, the color of a forest fire, the plating carved out a muscular form. Large wings folded out with feathers made of flame. The wings stretched out the length of the limousine Dante rode in. The helmet was sleek and aerodynamic, like the head of an Eagle. It had a sharp, bright, metal beak and empty orange eyes.

Just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. Dante looked around, trying to locate it. He became cautious, gripping Rebellion tighter. Suddenly, something yellow clamped down on his head and crisply yanked him off his feet. Dante found himself rocketing up, like a small animal strapped onto a large firecracker. The yellow thing was actually a pair of gigantic, talon-tipped, metal bird feet. The talons were shaped like curved hunting knives and had dug into Dante's neck and shoulders. The junkyard rapidly shrunk underneath him.

The feet released him after bringing Dante a good mile into the air. The momentum kept Dante speeding straight up before gravity kicked in. In the air, Dante was screwed. Phoenix began his aerial assault by flying past Dante, delivering a devastating punch or kick, and then swoop away only to turn around and repeat the process. The teen tried to defend himself, but Phoenix was far stronger and faster in his true form, even more so in the air.

The shotgun and sword slipped away from Dante. Phoenix soared higher, moved above Dante, and then screamed down on the youth, piercing his chest with his beak. The g-force almost made Dante lose consciousness. Phoenix began to corkscrew, leaving a helix of flame behind him. They landed on a car pillar, cleaving through it like an axe on a piece of lumber. The top half of the pillar slit apart and fell like lead flower petals.

Dante felt dizzy, painful, and weak. He laid on the bottom car, the edges folded up like a hotdog bun thanks to the attack. He tried to push himself up, but hot pain jabbed his senses. Blood fought its way up his throat. Phoenix hovered over him a few yards in the air, his wings motionless. Freya was back in his hand.

"You're a tough little shit." Phoenix said. His voice was deeper, harsher. "But you will not survive a second attack."

The demon zoomed to the sky, preparing for another dive bomb. Dante made one more attempt to get up, but his arms felt like dead weights, his whole body brittle like glass.

"Shit." Dante croaked. "Not good. Now what?"

He was about to lose. He never lost before, ever. They say losing builds character, but in the crime world, it meant death. The color around him drained away, replaced with a dim black and white. He closed his eyes, feeling tired.

_Dante_

His eye twitched.

_Dante, wake up!_

Muscles tightened.

_You cannot die! You must live!_

The dizziness ebbed. The pain vanished.

_For me, Dante! Fight! Win!_

Dante's eyes shot open.

"Mom?"

Red energy crackled around him, enveloping him in an angry glow. Rebellion was somehow in his hand. He thrust it out and connected with the tip of Freya. He stopped Phoenix cold. Searing heat made both blade tips glow and release steam. The demon hung in the air, it was hard to read its emotions with its helmet on, but Dante was positive that it was surprised as hell.

"Wh…what the fuck is this?" Phoenix sputtered and put more force behind his sword only to find himself still at an impasse. "How can this be-"

Dante pushed the blade away and jumped at Phoenix. With one clean swing, he removed the demon's head. The damage Dante suffered during the fight simply evaporated as he felt nothing restricting him. In fact he felt powerful, unbeatable. Phoenix must not have seen him, as the demon made no attempt to dodge or defend.

The jump was more powerful than Dante had anticipated. He felt light and moved through the air like he was caught in the wind. Phoenix's body hit the earth before Dante did.

Dante trembled slightly. He felt more than just power coursing through him, he felt anger, so absolute, that he could not feel anything else. His breathing was deep as he tried to calm himself. Things began to seem surreal. Where had the power come from? Who spoke to him? Was it his mother? Or had he finally snapped? Maybe he was still lying in the car, hallucinating from blood loss and waiting for Phoenix to finish him.

He heard a gasp. Isabel stood with an expression of utter disbelief. Dante was so used to seeing her with a seductive, confident smile. To witness anything else destroyed her mystique.

"Phoenix…" She whispered solemnly. "You…you killed him."

"No shit." Dante could not stop frowning. "He wanted a fight to the death. Who am I to disappoint him?"

Her shock turned into a snarl. She bared her white teeth. "You bastard! You killed him! He and I were…were…." Her nails suddenly grew out like switchblades. She charged him, half flying along the ground. "I'll rip your tongue out, you-"

Something cold and sharp whizzed past her head, brushing against her hair. She froze, her heart skipped a beat. Again, a stunned look came across her. Dante had pierced the air next to her head.

He did not see himself as fast. Everything else seemed to go slower. When the demoness charged, she was moving slowly, at least in his eyes, like she was underwater. He could have punctured her skull easily, killed her. But he did not. He felt so angry, but something inside him did not want to kill anymore. He wanted to go home.

Isabel fell to her knees, the sword followed her down. She looked deep into his eyes, terrified beyond words, too scared to use her stun powder. Dante's menacing glare willed her to give up.

"Please…don't kill me." Isabel pleaded, shivering with fright. "Please."

Dante removed the sword and put it on his shoulder. The red energy that enshrouded him dissipated. He spun around, trotted off to a lone crushed car, and sat down. He placed Rebellion off to the side. He needed a moment to catch his breath and control his emotions. Feelings came spewing up from deep within him, feelings he had long forgotten.

A sensation of someone standing in front of him tingled his brain. He looked up to see Isabel with a very serious expression.

"The hell you want?" Dante growled.

"You spared me." She dropped to a knee and took his hand. "I am yours now."

Dante blinked, than roughly yanked his hand away. "I don't want you. Go away."

"Dante. My kind, we are set adrift in a sea of passion and lust in order to lure our prey. We need an anchor, someone who we can be close to without using out powers, so we are not swept away. Someone special that we call our 'cherished'. Phoenix was my cherished. But now that he is…dead, I will befall the fate of others who did not have cherished ones, driven mad by the powerful emotions that swallow us whole. I need a cherished. I need you."

"I don't fucking care. Now beat it."

"There is a benefit for you. My body and soul, they will be yours, whenever you want. If you need affection, I will give it to you. If you need physical comfort, I will please you. All I need in return is for you to be there for me as well."

"Oh, grow a spine, for Christ sake." Dante stood and grabbed his sword. "You need to learn to stand on your own two feet."

"I told you what will happen to me if I remain alone." She followed him with her eyes. "And I'm not looking for a hand out."

Dante stopped and turned his head to the headless body of Phoenix. "You're some piece of work, babe. Your old boy toy's body ain't even cold yet and you're already trying to latch on to someone else."

"Phoenix was my cherished for over a century. I can't even try to explain how our bond felt. I will miss him…but I did not control his life. He chose to fight you and this was its outcome."

Isabel tightly gripped her hands together. She looked at the ground with a heart wrenching look.

"I wish I could cry for him, but I can't."

"Devil's don't cry." Dante somberly replied. "I know for a fact."

"But you're only half-demon. Haven't you ever cried?"

Dante paused before he answered. "Never."

Another moment passed that made Dante grow uncomfortable. "Look, I don't know how this whole 'cherished' thing works, so you're gonna have to explain it to me." He resumed his heading for the limousine. "You comin' or what?

Isabel smiled softly.

--

Aileen Sung oversaw the operation with her arms crossed as her men scurried about the junkyard. Men in biohazard suits surrounded Phoenix's body and sword, conducting scans and taking samples. The high beams from black government issued cars and SUVs turned the junkyard into a blinding field of light.

Her agents reported Dante leaving in a limousine with a demoness that had known connections with Phoenix. She ordered an immediate surveillance unit to pursue, but not intervene. Dante said he could win, despite her warnings. Besides, she did not have to adequate 'resources' herself to take on the late Devil Warrior.

A new female walked by Alieen. Her ebony hair came to her shoulders. She took a long drag and exhaled without moving her cigarette. Her cappuccino skin contrasted her white tank top.

"Phoenix was the number one demon in this area, been around for centuries, killed countless people." Aileen informed. "Held the title of Devil Warrior."

The other woman huffed an amused sound. "Hell of a way to get dethroned. Kid packs a mean punch."

"Indeed. I believe that we've underestimated him."

The other woman straightened her leather jacket, trying to ward off the cold. "The kid looks like he can take care of himself, why does he need me?"

"The Russian and Chinese mobs will move against Benezetti soon once they hear of Phoenix's fall. The Don won't go down without a fight, though. He'll throw everything he has at them. No doubt Hong and Mayakovsky will illicit Dante's services again. He'll need all the help he can get. Especially when he finds out about the Don's daughter."

"What about her?"

Aileen did not answer, instead changing the subject. "Cathy, do you know why I chose you for this assignment?"

"Because, for some ungodly reason, you enjoy seeing me suffer?" Cathy turned her head and spat out her used up cigarette.

"Because you are one of our best and what better way for our new employee to learn the ropes than to learn from you?"

Cathy smiled. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Just get him ready." Aileen turned to leave. "I'm sure you two will get along fine."


End file.
